The Crease in the Page
by bunny888
Summary: Sometimes the best comfort can be found in a well-worn favorite book. S5-ish. "Pretty smutty," says my spouse.  Thank you everyone for the reviews!  I appreciate your feedback.
1. Hers

_This is, in a fundamental way, very different from "Drip in the Closet", yet there are qualities that make them appropriately siblings. So, warning: This is very graphic. Also, if you don't like profanity, do not read this. It's an integral part of the story_.

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**Hers**

_Damn it._

Brennan didn't usually curse, of course, but sometimes things were more frustrating or overwhelming than regular language could adequately express. For such moments, she saved cursing.

_Damn it all to super-fucking-hell._

Her productivity that afternoon had been deplorable. She'd still made no realistic progress on the three chapters due on Tuesday (there had been typing, but it was all crap and she knew it). There was laundry to drop off and five unchecked messages from Angela on her phone, and an untold number of email waiting. She didn't even have the motivation to go to the lab and work in Limbo—usually quite soothing and meditative. But Brennan was not in the mood to be soothed today.

She tried shifting her hips, to put a slightly different pressure on her hand as her fingers continued to stroke firmly. It was there, she knew it, just beyond, just...

_Fuck._ Especially that damned aftershave and the stupid ties, and the triple-fucking-damned grin he gave her yesterday while he licked the last drip of cherry pie filling from his fork. Maybe there was a god, and she was punishing Brennan, mocking her. "You'll never get there, sister, no matter how close you are." Close, just as close as she could picture his lips when she imagined his hair, messed, her hand grabbing it in her fist, guiding him, his shoulders pressing her knees apart.

_Fu-shi-god. EEERGH_. She pulled her hand away, hot and wet and kind of pruny. Oh, god, she was pathetic. This was a fucking nightmare. Picking up her laptop and phone, she moved to her bedroom. Maybe she just wasn't getting the kind of leverage she needed on the couch. Maybe some internet images to stimulate her imagination.

She tossed the phone and laptop gently on the far side of the bed, then stripped off her yoga pants and panties. Maybe if she changed into some fuck-me panties, instead of her expensive perspiration-wicking athletic underwear, maybe _then_ she'd feel hot enough get off. Her sigh was loud and exasperated, desperate, even. All she needed was an orgasm and a nap. _Why was that so difficult?_ She selected a pair of ivory lace panties just a touch too tight in the right places, with a little bow on the top and not too much give—she wanted resistance in the fabric, not forgiveness. She pulled them up high, pulling the crotch tight against her. After a moment's thought, she unhooked her bra and donned the match to the panties—a demi-cup, also lace. She rarely wore it, as it wasn't normally comfortable; the lace, being a little stiff, created an embarrassing amount of friction against her nipples. She could feel herself getting wetter, imagining a certain pair of brown eyes watching her fasten the bra.

Oh, fuck, she needed to be pounded, just spread and fucked like the world was ending.

She returned to the bed, breathed in deeply to quiet herself a bit, then, stacking a couple pillows in the middle—just in case she needed them later—then she lay down and tried to start over. A little reading, perhaps. Her latest book was the favorite, with a particular scene in the conference room that always worked. It fell open easily to the page she had folded down, as though the book itself was doing its best to help. Brennan scanned the page to find certain words, to build the scene in her mind—_his scent, rough hands, suit pants against her naked skin, his lips._ She rocked her hips against the panties, the lace feeling tight and rough on her clit. _Teeth nipping, pinching nipples, his cock dripping on her thigh, licking._. She avoided calling the man by the character's name, since he was not what she needed. She avoided a name all together, still hoping to forestall the day when this fantasy spilled into their everyday lives. If she were to accidentally say his name the way it sounded in her head-

She felt it begin. That was the key. What if she _did_ say it the way it sounded in her head. Sitting in the SUV, a frustrating morning trying to get sense out of a suspect they'd driven hours to confront, some inconsistency he couldn't account for, the gravel road vibrating their vehicle. It was hot, so as soon as they were back in the car, his jacket had come off and he loosened his tie. He clenched the steering wheel and ranted about the slick-haired idiot they'd just encountered. His muscles were so tense, and to see those arms on either side of her torso...the idea was appealing. Brennan reached again to the nightstand and removed a small, smooth vibrator from the drawer, then shifted her hips on top of one of the pillows, still facing upward. She pulled her panties aside roughly and slid the vibrator between her lips, simultaneously scripting her reply. "Just because you don't approve of his deportment doesn't make it right to doubt his veracity. I thought his explanation was plausible. It's what I would have done, if faced with such a scenario."

He would have openly scoffed her. "Bones, are you insane? First of all, you're a super genius, which he is _not_, and second, you probably _would_ have attempted to placate the victim in your incredibly awkward way, but it would have worked, because you'd be logical and all hot and snuggly looking, and he would have melted. This creep, are you kidding? His mother probably even hates hearing from him on Mother's Day, he's such a scumbag. No way he tried to make nice with our victim and then had to defend himself. There's something missing, something we need to get him, and it's pissing me off that I can't see it." His jaw would tighten and his lips curl slightly.

"Hot and snuggly?" She'd look at him, just to see the blush creep up his neck a little. "Really? You think he'd melt?" The vibrations of the road would heighten the tickling between her thighs as she'd shift in the seat, facing him, her legs coming apart. "Why do you say that? Booth?" And with those words, her tone, his name, he'd know. He'd hear the need and hot curiosity with his Ranger-trained ears, and he'd look at her _like that_.

She shouldn't go further with that scene, because it would only lead to imagining his embarrassment and hedging, but the phantom vibrations of the road were being adequately mimicked by her own device. _Oh, fuck_. Would he be embarrassed? What if he wasn't? What if this once, when she pushed, he gave. "Hot, like this?" And she'd lick her lips just a little, and stroke between her legs with one wandering finger. What if, just like the book, _his rough hands_ reached across the console separating the seats and gripped her thigh, pulling it more toward him. His thumb would find the seam right over her slit and he'd push, rub...Dammit, she was so wet. She began pumping the vibrator into herself, using the fingers of her other hand as though it were his tongue stroking her clit. God, she needed this. With her hips elevated, she could watch the vibrator disappear inside her. Arching back, the lace of her bra pulled tight across her nipples. _Oh, mother-fucking-damn— _

The cell phone rang. _Oh fuck you!_, she thought, but reflexively she turned her head to look at the caller ID. Booth. She was so wet, her brain so fogged, her cunt so desperate, she clenched her thighs around the vibrator and answered the phone. "Yes, Booth?" Her voice was husky and her breathing ragged. "What do you want?"

There was a long pause.

"Uh, hey, Bones." He cleared his throat. "I was, uh, calling to see if you'd like me to bring a pizza over so we can finish organizing our reports for Caroline." He drew a shallow breath. "You sound busy, though, so, uh..." he stumbled, paused, "we can do this tomorrow."

"No. I want you to come over now." _Keep him talking, god, that voice_. She pushed. "What facts do you think we should lead with?" She propped the phone on her shoulder and began stroking again, pumping the vibrator in and out. "What does she need?"

He didn't speak for another couple moment, and Brennan more than half hoped his Ranger ears were really listening, overriding his Catholic brain so that he acknowledged exactly what she was doing. "If we just start at the beginning," he paused, "and spread the facts out..." She could imagine the panic in his eyes and the way he licked his lips. _His lips. Fuck. _ His voice continued uncertainly, quietly, "I think if we just build it slowly..." He stopped. _Shit, god damn it_. "Then hit the main points really hard...there's no way we can't bring it home." Another pause, then he cleared his throat again. "What do you think, Bones?"

"I think you're right." _Oh, fuck, here it comes, here it comes_. His eyes, that mouth—she gasped. "I just want to make sure she gets _everything_ she needs. I don't want her frustrated."

His breath quavered. "I'll make sure it's all good, Bones." _Oh, jesus-fucking-hell._ "I promise."

"How soon will you come?"

"I'm halfway there now."

"Fine." She closed the phone and a moan ripped from her throat. Rocking up and down, she clenched her hand and shook.

_Fuck_.


	2. His

A/N: Again, let me tell you, this is pretty graphic and profanity-laden. Not as aggressively so as "Hers", but still.  
Thanks to each of you who has taken the time to read my work and send some kind words my way. Much appreciated.

**His**

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_Golf? Who wanted to watch golf on TV? You could get up, go for a run, take a shower, make lunch, and then come back, and it would be the exact same thing as when you left. There had to be more football somewhere. Ooo, women's tennis..._

Booth paused his clicker finger, hovering for a moment as he watched the women with their muscular legs and arms, enjoying the view and not unfavorably comparing it to a certain powerful woman of whom he was fond, watching them smacking the hell out of those little furry balls—and as soon as that thought came to light, his finger quickly clicked away. Football. There was comfort.

He continued lounging on the sofa for another half hour or so, then realized it was getting kind of late. There so far hadn't been a lot of motivation to do anything today, since his original plans with his son had been preempted by stomach flu. As much as he loved Parker, Booth recognized that Rebecca was probably much better prepared in this case to deal with their son's needs. Plus, the prospect of so much effluence from that little body, well, it dampened Booth's normally buoyant spirit. Watching some ESPN had helped lift the general malaise, but now he needed some action; it was a quick slide from stud to spud, and he wasn't about to let that happen.

Grabbing his coffee cup and cereal bowl, Booth headed out to the kitchen to wash and do a quick spot clean, leaving everything neat and tidy, as appealed to his meticulous nature. It made him happy to have order in his life, especially order of which he was in control, and it never failed to impress the ladies that he was a man who knew his way around with a sponge and toilet brush. Momentarily picturing himself as a corsair, he brandished the soap wand and smiled what he felt was a devastatingly bad boy grin. Take that, Jack Sparrow!

It was also a pretty safe bet that Captain Jack wouldn't be able to cover the same mileage as Booth, another thought which brought a smile to his lips as he laced up his running shoes. He tucked his key, ID and phone into the inner pocket of his shorts, then headed down to the sidewalk. The day was beautiful: almost 80 degrees, sunny with a few genuinely fluffy clouds ("a Simpsons sky", he always called it), and just enough breeze to let a person know that fall was coming. He started west, then turned at the corner to follow his six-mile route: distance enough to work his endurance but still leave him energy for whatever else might come up that afternoon. Also enough time for thinking. He needed to go to the grocery store sometime this weekend, so he mentally compiled that list. There wasn't really anything he needed today, so maybe save that chore for tomorrow. A load of laundry, a birthday card for Pops, pick up his suits at the cleaners...Booth glanced to his right and noticed a picture of Bones. Huh?

Checking both ways, he loped across the street and paused before the window of an independent bookstore which seemed to specialize in mysteries: Partners & Crime. Of course her picture would be there, because her latest book had just come out last week. Unfortunately it was that creepy picture with her and the skull, but still, she looked good. She always looked good. The shirt she wore really emphasized the blue of her eyes, somehow making them even more _whatever_ than they usually were. Smiling, he continued on his way, his thoughts turning to the gift she had given him earlier in the week. Typical Bones, she'd made the generous action appear "merely rational," since she was sure everyone would be preoccupied with curiosity and perhaps spend valuable work time slipping out to a bookstore to get a copy. (Hello? Amazon, Bones.) At her request, the publisher had delivered a box of her latest volume to the Jeffersonian, then, throughout the day, she distributed them to the staff with what he could only imagine was an awkward thanks for their "inspiring contribution to her writing process." Man, he was really starting to think like her sometimes. But at least he knew that her thanks to him had been real and, well, heartfelt—heart, he knew, instead of head, because of the way her eyes had smiled when she handed the book to him. It was lying on the coffee table now, waiting for him. Maybe he'd take look at it later.

With a feeling approaching regret, Booth climbed the stairs and entered his apartment. It really would have been a perfect day to spend at the park with his son, just doing dad-and-kid things. But it was a good day, even without his little boy: the run had used up some of that pent-up energy, and now, after a good shower, it would be easier to get his mind onto some of his other tasks.

The warm water felt good, and he leaned toward the back of the shower to let it rain onto his hamstrings and calves. His legs were tight, in a good way, rewarding his effort and making him feel strong. He felt lucky to be so strong; sure, he worked at it, but not everyone had been blessed with his gifts, and he knew it. Not in a cocky way, not that at all. He was thankful. Yep, it was a good day. Standing straight again, he enjoyed the warmth loosening his back and neck for a moment, then reached to the side for the soap. As he lathered up, he began humming some silly song from one of Parker's CDs, a science song—the CD was from Bones, of course. Thankfully, it was actually enjoyable music, by a couple funky guys in New York, so even though the song was about the circulatory system, it had a cool groove. "The bloodmobile, the bloodmobile, a delivery service inside us*..." Way cooler than he expected kids' music to be, but he still wasn't going to admit it to anyone. After a final rinse of his hair (should he add haircut to his list for tomorrow?), he turned off the water and grabbed a towel, first wiping his legs quickly, so as not to leave puddles, then wrapping it around his waist.

The bathroom was comfortably warm and steamy, keeping his muscles loose as he stood in front of the mirror. Swiping a broad swatch clear of condensation, he looked at himself, then grinned. "Seeley, you handsome dog, you. No wonder your partner can't keep her hands off you. Oh, wait. That's right, she can. You dumb bastard." He began to reach for his razor, then stopped. Why bother? It's the weekend, baby. In fact, he decided, he wasn't even going to get dressed right now. He was going to be the ultimate cave man, lying around in his animal skin (well, okay, bath towel), watching TV and drinking beer. Ha! On his way to the kitchen, he pressed the control to turn the TV on, then retrieved a beer from the fridge. Ug! Beer, good!

Back in the living room, he paused, slightly confused. Why was the screen blank? He picked up the remote and clicked one channel up: TLC. Another channel up: Oxygen. A third: CSPAN2. He clicked back down to ESPN. Blank. This had to be wrong. He clicked as many channels in the other direction, with growing disappointment. Everything else seemed to be there, but no ESPN. He flipped over to Spike, but it was just some dumb cop procedural (yeah, right), then the History Channel. Seriously? The history of the fashions of World War II? It was a similar story with any channel he'd ever even vaguely enjoyed, including the classic movie channels, which were usually good for at least a classic Western on Saturday afternoon. It was truly craptastic television. Despondently, he clicked off the set. _Damn_.

He tossed the remote back onto the coffee table where, serendipitously, it landed next to Bones's new book. Now there was some entertainment. Drawing the table nearer to the couch (had to keep the beer within easy reach), he reclined and extended his legs down the sofa. His towel twisted, falling open to expose a good amount of his lower body, but, heck, there was no one around. A man has a right to be naked in his own living room, no matter what Sister Catherine would have said about modesty. He picked up the book and took a swig of beer while he studied the cover. Nice. A little macabre, a little scary, with a suspenseful, sexy edge to it. Kinda like Bones herself, actually. He flipped to the back to look again at her picture. It was the same one as in the store window, although here it was too small to show off her eyes. You could still see the auburn tint of her hair, though, and how soft it looked. She'd mentioned that the publisher had tried to get her to take another picture, something more sexy and less, well, weird, but she'd refused. Maybe he'd try to talk her into it...no. No, on second thought, he wouldn't, because if it was a better picture, more guys would be lying naked on their couches looking at her, and that was bad. Suddenly, he was embarrassed. He flipped back to the front and tried to adjust his towel a little better. You never knew, someone might suddenly break in, and there he'd be all exposed and stuff.

Setting the bottle on the table, he opened the front cover her book. Right on the title page, she'd signed it. "To my best friend. Bones." That stopped him. Almost shyly, he rubbed the words with his index finger, feeling even warmer than the shower had made him. For a long time, Booth had known that she was his closest friend, that he shared things with her that he'd neither told nor ever would tell anyone else. She'd been his balm and his savior in so many ways. And he knew that he was also her best friend, even if she didn't know it. But apparently, she did. He let it wash over him for a minute, the happiness of knowing she valued him so much, and that she acknowledged it. That was a big deal.

But as big as the deal was, he still needed to entertain himself for a little while, at least for a couple hours, then maybe he could give Bones a call. He glanced over at the dining table to make sure the stack of files was where he remembered—they were in the middle of prepping a case for Caroline, and that would be a good excuse for getting together later, maybe have some dinner. The illogical hope formed in his mind that maybe her ESPN was still working.

Chapters one through eleven went pretty quickly. Bones was good, and he reveled in her ability to bring reality and fantasy together in her tight prose. At one point, he even laughed out loud, commenting to himself, "Yep, she's my partner." Who else could have made Kathy both so incredibly tough and scathingly brilliant? When he got to chapter twelve, he smiled slightly. The partners were working late, trying to get the pieces to fit so they could get a warrant against their prime suspect. It was tense, and they were exhausted. _Sounds familiar. _ And then, it seemed, perhaps they weren't so exhausted after all. Booth's eyes slowly widened as he read deeper into the chapter, and without realizing it, his non-book hand drifted down to his cock. He began stroking himself with his thumb, just a little, through the towel. His legs had fallen slightly apart and the towel had slipped, and, well, if a young Sister Catherine had seen him now? She might have reconsidered her priorities.

_"...As she sat perched on the table, he pressed his leg between her thighs. His hand slid up her skirt until he encountered a soft, wet satin barrier. She scooted forward, pressing her naked breast against his shirt, moaning at the friction of his suit pants against her naked skin His scent—she would die happy if she could have the smell of this man around her, as long as she could drink it in, because it alone was almost enough to make her come. Because the smell of him like this always meant she was _going_ to come. He pressed his finger past the elastic of her panties and dipped it inside her, curling his hand slightly so his thumb could press on her clit. Kathy held her breath, braced herself and pushed forward, then let her breath out in a gasp as his teeth nipped at the base of her neck. She reached down and undid his pants, barely able to work the zipper because her mind was so clouded with desire for him. He groaned deeply against her throat as she released his cock and drew it against her leg where he could feel her trembling, the heat of her skin, her desperate need to be fucked. Andy released her leg with one hand and stroked once, twice, causing his cock to drip on her thigh, then moved his hand up to her breast. He thumbed her nipple, grasped it roughly and pinched, pulled. She moaned as if he'd pulled the sound from deep within her chest himself, knowing exactly what she needed. Tired of waiting, Bones almost ripped his pants down, grabbed the muscles of his ass and begged, roughly, 'Fuck me, damn it. Please, just fuck me hard.' With that, she pulled him..."_

_Shit_. He slammed the book shut. Bones? Booth looked down at his hand, gripping his cock tightly, stroking, teasing. Immediately he pulled his hand back, but his huge erection still stood there, laughing at him. _Bones?_ This was bad. When had she shown up in his head? Shit. This was very bad. He could _not_ start down this road, it was wrong, wrong, wrong wrongwrong—

_Holy hell._ What had she written this for, anyway? It read like a Penthouse letter, and he definitely didn't remember the other books being quite this hot. Hot and wet and hard—_shit_. He needed to take another shower. He took a deep breath (he'd been panting rather shallowly for a while) and thought for a second. He _was_ already naked. _Did_ already had a towel. He reached out to the remote and turned the TV back on, hoping desperately to find something. There! _Showgirls_ was on Spike now. Horrible movie, but at least there were tits and asses, and even though it was edited for TV—_Okay, now, here we go._ It was as good as he could hope to find on basic cable in the middle of Saturday afternoon, and he was going to run with it. He pulled open the drawer of the coffee table and squirted a bit of lotion into his hand, all the while watching the scene playing out on screen.

"_Gentlemen, I give you...Nomi!"__  
Her lights came up, the single spot following her from the back of the stage.  
'Step inside, walk this way, You and me babe, hey, hey!'*  
__ She glittered, strutted, wrapped herself around the pole.  
__ 'Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp...'  
_ "_Grind it, baby! Give it to me!" _

It was the sleazy strip club scene. The young woman on stage squeezed her breasts together, reaching her tongue down toward her own nipples. _Oh, yeah, I would love to do that_. His hand tightened again around his cock. She bent, rotated her ass toward an appreciative viewer, then straddled the open-back chair on the stage, giving her audience a clear view of the thin strip of material between her legs. She began raising herself up, thrusting forward as though reaching for something just out of reach, thrusting forward to meet each and every hard cock in the audience dying to dip into her. Booth propped one of his legs up on the back of the couch, letting the towel fall completely open. The muscles in his long legs began to tighten as he pushed against the cushions, thrusting into as much as pulling with his hand. He felt his feet begin to tingle, and he closed his eyes, seeing that tiny strip of material, smelling the wetness of her cunt. His mouth watered and he moaned just a little. He turned his head back to the TV. The shot had switched to a close up of the woman's face. Her mouth was open, her tongue reaching out just a bit as though she couldn't wait to catch every last drop from his cock. Her eyes closed, waiting, and as her head fell back, she moaned, seeming to echo Booth's own arousal. _Oh, yeah, ride it, baby, ride it, squeeze it out of me._ He watched and stroked as she opened her eyes, those deep blue eyes, those eyes with such a brain behind them. Her hand dropped down out of the shot, away from her tit, and, from the motion, she seemed to be pumping her fingers into herself. Booth's eyes fluttered closed again _Oh, God, oh, sweet Jesus, that would taste so good._ He could imagine that hot cunt dripping on him just before she pushed down, how tight she'd be. The smell of her, her hair, her soap, her soft beautiful skin. She'd lean forward and those long auburn half-curls would tickle his chest. _God!_ Her ass was so perfect, so easy to cup with his hands as he slammed her down over and over—

_Shit_. His eyes flew open. The woman on the stage was blonde, her hair rather grotesquely stiff with hairspray and body glitter. _Come on, she could still be soft and smell good. Come on—fuck!_ Bones's blue eyes stared back at him. It was her smell he was imagining, her soft skin—_which, by the way, how many times had she let him touch her this week? A freaking million?_ This was not going to work, he couldn't focus now. Should he just leave it and try to forget? He'd had plenty of days when he couldn't take care of it and had to just suffer through. But he was in _his own living room_, and if a guy couldn't jerk off in his own living room, what was this country coming to? He grabbed the remote again, pissed off at the simple unfairness of it all, and flipped through several channels before turning it off. TV was pointless.

Time to call up one of his standbys. He took another squirt of lotion. His freshman year in college was the first time he'd seen an actual pornographic movie, and for the most part, he had just been embarrassed. For the most part. There were two moments, however, that had, throughout the years, served him quite well. Booth closed his eyes and remembered those breasts, large and soft, with full nipples—_real _breasts. The woman had used her own hands to press them together while her partner sucked, taking her nipples in his teeth, swiping them firmly with his tongue. She groaned and wove her fingers of one hand into his hair, pulling his head harder into her cleavage. The camera pulled back to show the man's cock fully extended and the woman's other hand pumping him, tight and rough. He grunted, pulled away from her, then slid his cock between her breasts. He squeezed her tits together, fucking, fucking, fucking, while she reached out her tongue to lick the head of his dick every time it came within reach.

Booth's grip started out softer this time, imaging his own cock sliding between the soft, slick tissue of the woman's breasts. She was smiling and moaning, as if she was about to come just from the feel of his cock on her tits, but it wasn't enough. He was practically ready to scream with frustration, so he sped on to the next scene in his mental queue. He imagined wiping his mouth after licking her dripping pussy for a good, long while, then she turned over. She stayed up on her knees, but lowered her shoulders, leaving her ass pointed right up at him. He stroked her, all the way from front to back, his fingers probing wetly. His hands spread her lips open—she was swollen and wet, whimpering and begging for him to fuck her. So he did. He stroked in once, then twice, slowly, but she begged, _begged_ him to do it faster, and much, much harder. Being a gentleman, Booth did his best to accommodate her request. His grip tightened around his now deep red cock, squeezing and twisting as his hips pistoned up off the couch. _I'll fuck you so hard and so good, you'll never want to put your legs together again. _ He imagined that he could still smell her, still taste her cunt on his mouth, and he tightened his grip further. His legs were unbearably tensed, straining to push his swollen cock into her dripping, hot, begging pussy. His breath came in harsh, tortured gasps as he kept pumping, kept fucking her. He felt his balls tighten. _Oh, God. _His hands would grip her hips hard and pull, slamming into her, pounding her like the world was ending. His brain began playing tricks on him again, and the voice he used to speak to her screamed out, "Bones!" _She was so wet, so wet, Bones, his Bones, oh God._ His come erupted hotly from his throbbing and exhausted cock. _Oh, God, oh, God. _Much more than he expected, and still he spasmed in his own hand. His head fell back, mouth open in a whimpering pant. _Why did it always come back to her?_ God knew he tried to stay away, but he never could, and even though he hated himself for thinking about her, it was always the best when it happened.

He lay there, legs spread, stomach and chest covered with his own fluid. At least it was done. The towel had been totally discarded in his heated thrashing, but he retrieved it from the floor and cleaned himself up. He turned his head to the side, willing the TV to come on but too tired at the moment to reach for the remote. Her book was still lying there, too. _What kind of guy thinks about doing that kind of stuff to his best friend?_ He frowned slightly and reached out his hand. The book felt monumentally heavy now that he'd completely spent himself, but he lifted it anyway, brought it to his chest. One of the pages had been folded, and he realized it was where he had slammed the book shut. Almost fearfully, he opened it again to that page. _The page that's sending me to hell._ He straightened the page, flattened it, and slowly lowered his gaze to the beginning of the troublesome passage. _No, I can't do this._ He moved to close the book. But shouldn't he at least mark where he stopped reading, so he can pick it up again later? Wouldn't it be rude to skip part of his best friend's book? With that thought, he made the tiniest of folds on the corner of the page, then gently closed it.

One more wipe with the towel, then Booth moved (rather sorely) to the bathroom where he again started the shower, making it extra hot this time. There was so much to scrub away.

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_*Songs mentioned in this chapter are "The Bloodmobile" by They Might be Giants, and "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard._


	3. Theirs

**A/N: Angela/Hodgins story. This is slightly asynchronous with S5—so please, just take that little piece that belongs in S4 and plunk it down here. I could have worked it out, but the story wouldn't have worked as well. **_**Please note, this story is sexually explicit, although the profanity is marginally less than the previous two chapters.**_** Thank you again, everyone! **

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**Theirs**

Tuesday morning, Angela knew there was something up when the box was delivered, because usually Brennan avoided any visible display of her literary career at the lab. Not that she was above hearing compliments—intelligent compliments, not the gushing sycophantic blather of some of the lab interns_ (Daisy)_—or boasting about her own talents in that unselfconscious and uniquely lovable Brennan-esque way. But to have a large, heavy box arrive, a box _clearly_ marked "promotional materials" and bearing the huge logo of the publisher, well, that was unusual. Brennan actually smiled when she directed the delivery person to her office, yet she wouldn't spill anything about what was _in_ the box. Angela would have said it was her "cat that ate the canary" look if Brennan would have understood the phrase. The box had to be books, right? Or maybe something fun for the book launch party? _What could be _fun _about a book launch party, except the open bar?_ She stopped mid-stride, another thought occurring to her: _Ooo, Super Agent Hottie at the party would be nice, but I bet nothing of his could fit in that box..._

Smiling to herself, she drew a deep breath and looked over at Jack. He was just so damn cute. _Ah, well, nothing can be done about it now_. And why was that? Ange paused again (she was never going to make it anywhere today if she kept thinking) and wondered, why _couldn't_ something be done about it now? Wendell had been a sweetheart and all, but she knew, he was not Hodgins. She had more than a feeling that even darling Wendell knew he was not Hodgins. Well, of course he wasn't Hodgins, he was Wendell, but, well, it made more sense before she actually tried to say it to herself—

"What's going on in that gorgeous, evil head of yours?" Jack said with a grin, leaning in to catch the eye of his favorite wild woman. "Plotting something I should be concerned about? Or should I alert Wendell to take extra vitamins with his graham crackers and juice?"

_Eeep. Where did he come from?_ "Gosh! You startled me! I didn't see you leave the platform. I'm just really out of it today, I guess."

"Everything all right?" His eyes were just so blue, and the way he looked at her, it...well, it made her shiver a little and want to giggle like when she was in high school. "You need any help with something?" Jack shifted a tad bit closer, continuing to look her straight in the eyes.

"No, but thanks all the same. I'm just distracted thinking about, you know, stuff. I'm not with Wendell, any more, by the way." She watched closely, of course trying to seem like she wasn't watching closely. _Did he just sparkle at me? _

"Huh," he paused. One eyebrow tilted slightly and his chin jutted out, just a touch. "I thought you guys were working out your, uh, situation. No?"

"No." She drew in a long breath and sighed it out. "No, and I hope he really knows that that was the right thing, for both of us." She looked down at her tablet and fiddled with her pencils for a second. "It really was. The best thing, I mean."

"I agree with you, Ange. Whatever reasons you have, I agree. I'm sure you know what you're doing."

"No, really, Wendell is the sweetest, kindest guy-"

"Sweetest _and_ kindest? Hmm." His expression became theatrically puzzled and injured.

"You know what I mean!" She playfully slapped him in the chest. "He's just so young, and I'm—"

"So old, so very, very old, I know..."

"Jack!"

"...things sag, the memory goes, then the _teeth_ go..."

"You know what I mean."

"I know what you mean." He looked directly into her eyes again. "I was serious. You're a wise and compassionate woman, Angela. You do your best to make others happy, but you're no fool, you take care of yourself, too. And I agree, Wendell was not ready to be the father of your children." He reached out a single finger and gently tapped her on the nose, smiling. "But don't worry, he's out there."

"Who, my baby daddy?" she asked with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah, mama, your _big time_ baby daddy!" And with that, he winked and walked away.

Was she the only one who found that conversation _hot_?

She finally made it back to her office, temporarily forgetting to think about the mysterious box thanks to Jack's verbal prowess. Angela had just seated herself on the stool in front of her large monitor, starting to put in some different numbers and change the tissue depths along the lower jaw just a touch, when Brennan walked in.

"Ange, may I speak with you for a moment?" The words, as per Brennan's usual, were delivered politely but with a touch of condescension, as though she knew no one at the Jeffersonian would say no. She was right, though, of course, in which case, was it still condescension?

"Of course, sweetie. This is just work, no biggie." Angela turned to face her friend, whose expression had turned puzzled. "I mean of course you can, you're always important."

"Well, Ange, if what you're doing pertains to the completion of a case, then that obviously takes precedence over a relatively small social exchange, not to mention that my inquiry can very well be conducted at another time without inconveniencing me."

"Seriously, Bren, it's not a problem. I can do both at the same time." Angela turned back to her tablet, smiling at the never-ending befuddlement of one of the smartest women in the world. "What's up?"

"I had some copies of my new novel delivered here this morning—you may have noticed when the courier arrived—and I want your advice about something."

"Shoot. I mean, ask."

"As you are all both my friends and colleagues, I wanted to give a copy to each of you, to thank you for your help and indicate the importance of the position you hold in my _de facto_ family."

"Aw, Bren, that's so sweet-"

"And since I depend on you all, in part, my hope is that this will alleviate the need for you to take time from the lab to go to a local bookstore and purchase a copy-"

"Like I said, Bren, _so sweet..._"

Brennan continued, lost in her own flow of thought. "Although, now that I consider it, perhaps you'll take this as tacit endorsement of reading it while here at the Jeffersonian. No, you're all too professional for that."

"Of course, what were you thinking?"

"That you might think that this as my approval of your choice to spend valuable lab time reading my novel." As usual, Brennan did not notice Angela's suppressed laughter. Still, she continued, "However, I don't want this gift be seen as an implication that you aren't able to afford my book. I mean, all of you except Hodgins make considerably less than I do. And the interns, of course, who make virtually nothing and do need the largess, but the rest of you, I know, are well able to pay $24.95 for the hardcover. I am correct, aren't I?" Here she paused and looked expectantly at her friend.

"Uh, that none of us would be insulted because you give us a present? Hello, presents are _delicious_, and I think people should give me more of them."

"But Angela, this is a book, so it wouldn't be delicious."

"No, sweetie, I mean that it's always lovely to receive a present from a person you care about. It would be a lovely gesture, one that I'm sure none of us would take in any way except a _good_ way." Angela stood up and gave Brennan's shoulder a squeeze. "You're such a good-hearted person, sweetie. Everyone will love your book."

"Thank you, Ange. Booth always says that gestures are important, so I hoped this one would be appropriate. But I don't think everyone will love my book because of my heart, as you say, but rather because I'm an excellent writer."

"Of course they will, sweetie."

"Thank you, Angela, you've helped me considerably." And with a big smile, Brennan left.

On Wednesday, one by one, Brennan cornered each of her lab coworkers and asked to speak to them privately. After a few moments of conversation, she rather awkwardly bestowed her gift, then unceremoniously turned and walked back to her office. She worked quickly, leaving almost no time for the news to get around what was actually happening, so some people were a little panicked when she called them out. Hodgins was pretty sure he didn't have anything to panic about, though.

"Sure, Doctor B, be with you as soon as I turn this off." He took a few more seconds to douse the flame and make sure there were no hot spots, then removed his mask and gloves and joined Brennan. "What's up?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me what's up? That expression makes no sense."

"It's just a saying, you know-"

"I know, sorry, Hodgins. What I wanted to say was that Booth has helped me realize how much my experience working with all of you has helped me become a better writer. He's always talking about the strength of the team, and 'a chain is only as strong as its weakest link', and other strange sayings. But I think he's been trying to help me understand how, although he and I are obviously the most important members of the investigative team, we couldn't be as strong as we are without the extensive knowledge and skills of people such as you, Dr. Hodgins." Here she paused and pushed the book into his hands. "This is a token of my esteem for you as a colleague and a friend."

"Aw, Dr. Brennan, you didn't need to do that!"

"I know, Jack, that's what makes it a gift. If I were required to give it-"

"What I meant was, _thank you_." He smiled at her. "I've been looking forward to this one for a while now. Angela's excitement about it has me pretty interested."

"Well, yes, Angela's probably excited because there's lots of sex it in, but you'll undoubtedly appreciate the advanced particulate analysis techniques the lab employs in the first crime scene."

"Undoubtedly! Thanks again, Doctor B."

"You're welcome, Hodgins."

Jack walked back to his workstation, examining the cover—which seemed a bit racier than the last one—then flipping through the pages. Something at the front caught his eye, so he went back.. Brennan had scribed on the title page, "Dr. Hodgins, you are truly a valuable professional and personal asset to me. Thank you for your friendship. T. Brennan" He was stunned. It sounded just like her, yet the words contained much more feeling than she usually injected into their relationship. _What a nice surprise_, he thought. _Maybe I'll see if I can get a peak at what she wrote in Ange's._

At 6:00, he began shutting down his station for the evening. There were a couple small samples that would continue running all night, but it was relatively quiet. A good night for catching a drink at the bar. He noticed that Angela seemed to be gathering her things, too. _Perfect timing._

Angela had actually been finished for a little while, but she was keeping an eye on the activity on the platform. She recognized the shift in Jack's shoulders when he decided he was done for the day, and as he began shutting down, she made a show of turning off all her video equipment and packing up her bag. All day, Brennan's book had been in her mind, especially (as Brennan had correctly surmised) some of the steamier bits. Angela had a particular interest and investment in those parts, as she was Bren's, well, for lack of a better term, Bren's _sexual consultant; s_he _knew_ the scenes in the book would be juicy, because they were arousing when she helped Bren write them. _It's like writing something really hot and dirty on the bathroom wall, except it's really well written, and millions of people read it!_ She almost never surprised herself with her own capacity for sex humor. It was a true talent. _Now, to make a move on Hodgy._

"Hey, there, wanna grab a drink?" There he was, at her door. "We can crack open our new presents and see what magic awaits within..." His eyebrows waggled suggestively, but the grin made it hilarious.

"Hmm, so Mrs. Santa visited you, too, huh? Well, I already know what lies within, but I'd love to get a drink or three with you. And this book? It's hot enough to melt my knickers."

"_Really?_ I'm not sure how to take that," he said, helping her on with her coat as they left her office. "I mean, on one hand, you're easy. On the other hand, your knickers have built up quite a tolerance to heat."

"Mm-hmm," she laughed, "and you know very well about both of those." She gave him that special look, the one she used to toss his way all the time, especially those days when they'd end up in the Egyptian room over lunch. Jack couldn't quite believe it. "You're going to love it."

"Yeah?" He chuckled nervously. "You're scarin' me a little, Ange."

"Good."

Founding Fathers was a little too crowded, so they wandered over to 201. There was still a couch open in the back, and there was no music tonight, so it was perfect for actual conversation. Angela wasn't even sure what she had in mind, but she knew that a couch was better than a table, and dim lighting, well, it reminded people of sex (kind of like red lipstick and stilettos), and sex always made her happy. She took their bags back and tossed them down on one end of the couch, making the remaining area cozy for two. Jack soon joined her with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses.

"Sure there's room for me there?" Again, he was a little...nervous wasn't the word. Concerned? Maybe. Concerned that he'd be home alone again tonight, hot and bothered, mere days after he'd finally reached the point he could sleep through the night without missing her.

She smiled up at him and saw the trepidation in his eyes, then patted the seat. "Sure I'm sure. Plant that fine butt right there, Dr. Hodgins." He sat down, poured them each a glass of wine, then leaned back beside her. Her copy of Brennan's book was on her lap.

"What's this, you going to read to me?"

"Maybe. Thought story time might be fun."

He couldn't look at her. Staring down into his glass, the normally confident Hodgins spoke softly. "I've been reading more non-fiction lately, Ange. Not sure I'm ready to go back to the world of make-believe." He shifted his eyes—_god, they were so blue!-_back to hers. "I can't play backup any more, filling in when another player gets benched."

"Oh, come on, you're not getting all melancholy on me now!" She leaned into him, tilting her head, letting her forehead rest on his for just a moment. "You're always going to be special to me, and sometimes, it's okay for us to remember that. And tonight, we're celebrating Brennan's spectacular display of emotion!" She raised her glass toward his, and he responded in kind.

"Hear, hear! To Doctor B's sweet success!" They drank. They talked more, like they hadn't talked in quite a while, about big things and small things. It was easy being together. Jack refilled their glasses then reached over toward her lap.

"Wait a minute, there, tiger."

"Hey, I just wanted to see what she wrote in yours."

"She signed them? No wonder! I came by really late last night because I forgot my portfolio, and she was sitting in her office with all these books stacked up around her. She looked completely lost, and you know that never happens. What did she write in yours? Is it good?"

"I found it to be quite charming. Affectionate, actually." He pulled his book out of his bag (the accessing of which required him to lean perilously across Angela's warm and accommodating bosom) and flipped the cover open for her to read.

"You're right, that's positively lovey-dovey. What's mine say..." She opened her own and read: _Angela, your kind heart and warm nature mean the world to me. Thank you for helping me see the passion in life. Your BBF, Bren_

"Oh, sweetie! Bless her heart, she always forgets that it's 'BFF'. God, I love her. Isn't she great?"

"Yeah, yeah. Now, if we're going to celebrate, does that mean you're going to read the hot parts to me?" He'd slipped an arm around her shoulder, and they were sitting close, close enough to make the wine feel really, really nice going down.

"Of course I am. I'm skipping all the murder stuff, because you'll enjoy that more on your own." She fanned through until she found what she wanted, a corner neatly folded down to mark the beginning of the chapter 12.

"How do you know this? Didn't you just get yours today, too?"

"You read what the lady said, Hodgy: I help her 'see the passion in life'."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning, I help her write the sex parts. That's how I know they're so hot!"

"Another toast, to Temperance Brennan and her smut coach!"

"You better believe it, baby."

Jack filled their glasses again, then wrapped his arm back around her shoulder, curling a finger in her hair. Holding the book on her lap, Angela began to read. The chapter started out like a normal frustrating day on a case. The partners tired, the suspects slipping from their grasp, the facts not lining up like they should. But then there was a shift. Jack noticed first that Angela's nipples were clearly erect, poking tantalizingly forward through the soft knit of her sweater. She wore these great bras that made it look like she wasn't wearing one, making it seem like her breast were ripe and ready and naked. He closed his eyes and remembered running his thumb over those nipples, how hard they could be, how beautiful, how _delicious_ to pull with his teeth... But her voice drew him back as slowly, quietly, she continued to read:

...She was wet; he slid his fingers in. Kathy, moaning and pushing against him, her legs wrapped around him. Her nipples were hard...

_Jack looked at Angela's again—oh, god, they were harder, he could almost taste them, so good._

...and Andy pinched and pulled, making Kathy beg. His cock dripped on her thigh...he slid into her twice, then paused...he dropped to his knees and slid both hands up the outside of her skirt, threading his thumbs through the narrow band of her panties, pulled them down, then spread her legs wider...

_Angela shifted in her seat, and suddenly, Jack could smell her. His dick pressed painfully against the buttons of his fly. Shit._

..."We can't prove our case right now. But Kathy, I can prove that no one else will ever make you come like I can." Using two fingers, Andy spread her moisture up and down, making sure everything was slick and—he traced her with his tongue—slick and delicious. Kathy moaned again, trying to squeeze her legs around him, but he held them apart. Bracing his shoulders so she couldn't close her legs, he spread her lips and lowered his mouth to her.

_Angela set her empty glass on the table and dropped one hand to Jack's thigh, slowly tracing up and down, side to side with a single finger. Her finger tip kept stopping right at the edge of his now pulsing erection. _

He breathed her in, sighing, then flicked his tongue over her clit. He shifted so he could keep her spread with one hand and use the fingers of his other hand to rub a tight, slow, circular pattern around her entrance. Circle, circle, push, achingly, maddeningly slow. Soon he was using two fingers, one on her vaginal opening, one on her anus, but still, circling. He would dip both fingers inside her, bring them out slick, then circle, circle. Meanwhile, his mouth still worked her clit, gently, so she wouldn't explode—yet—and he could continue to enjoy..."Your pussy is—God, I could eat you all night." He kissed her palm, leaving wet streaks of her own juice on her hand.

_Angela squeezed her thighs together, and in the dim light, Jack's fingers drifted down to her breast, making the barest of contact with one throbbing nipple. She shivered._

Kathy moaned and fell back on the table, her legs spread, her own hands alternately playing hard with her nipples and threading through his hair, almost weeping with the desire to be fucked, but never having had something so wonderful from his mouth before. She rocked her hips in time to his fingers, trying to thrust down, just a little, to get some relief from the building pressure. "God, please, Andy, just slide them in, please, oh, fuck..."

_Jack made a little groaning sound as Angela raked her fingers over his cock._

He slid a hand under her ass, pulling her half-way forward, and patted her left thigh. "Put your foot on the floor." She did, leaving one knee on the table and her cunt spread wide right over his face. "Oh, Jesus..." He slid in his fingers, one in her cunt, one in her ass. "Ah! Ahh!" she whimpered. With a foot down, she could rock onto his mouth, thrusting onto his fingers, back and forth, pushing deeply onto one, then the other...

"Wait a minute." Jack turned to look at her, his eyes dazed and unfocused.

"What? Come on, this is good."

"Damn right it is.

"Makes me so wet I wanna come right here."

"Yeah, I _know. _That's my thing. You know, that thing that _I _ do."

She turned slightly, pressing more of her breast into his hand, and looked straight into his eyes. "I know that, you big dummy. Why do you think I wanted to have story time?"

"Huh?"

Angela leaned forward and kissed him. Deep, wet, hungry. She pulled his lower lip with her teeth, then dipped her tongue into him again. Wine and Jack Hodgins went very well together. "You have three options here, Hodgy."

"That many?" His expression was pained. "I'm not sure I can decide among that many, I'm not exactly thinking straight..."

"One: you throw me in the Mini, drive me to your place, then pound me and make me drip on your cock until I beg for mercy."

"That takes a long time."

"Yeah. Two: you throw me in the Mini, roll the seat back, and start eating me right there, until I beg for mercy or we get arrested."

"We can beat the rap, I got connections-"

"Three: you let me unbutton you and slide my wet, pantiless cunt down on your cock, right now, right here on the couch. It's dark. No one would know."

"That's not true! Everyone would see—"

"Okay, I lied a little about that part, but you could still be buried to the balls in my dripping pussy in a mere 30 seconds if you go for that option. Think about it. 30 seconds. Pantiless."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Can I think for a second?"

"Fine," Angela started sliding a hand up her skirt, "but I'm going to start to finger myself while I wait. I am ready now, stud." She pulled out one wet, slick finger and placed it against his lips. He pulled it in, sucking long and hard, groaning. His eyes closed.

"Oh, Ange, what are you doing to me..."

"Making you mine, baby."

Jack slammed his wine glass down on the table, grabbed both of their bags with one hand and her with the other. "Come on."

"Ooo, I can't wait. What did you choose?"

"I'm going the distance."

"Do we need something to eat?"

"Mmm, I've got all I need. 'All my delight is a cunny in the night!'"

"Ah! I love it when you wax poetic on me. Speaking of wax-"

"Evil, evil wench."


	4. She

**A/N: This chapter is a new insert between "His" and "Partners". ** If you have comments or suggestions or an opinion about the change in the order, let me know. This would be so much easier to write if I actually had a plan.

* * *

**She**

_It's only a matter of common sense that Seeley Booth would be an excellent lover_. Brennan had studied men and women through thousands of years of human history, and there were ways to tell. Not just physical, which was, of course, her area of expertise. She knew the physical: the breadth of shoulders, the tilt of the hips, the length and musculature of the limbs. He was obviously a superior male specimen—a thought which made her grin, because any time she wanted to make him preen and blush at the same time, those words would do the trick. He was a warrior, but a thinking warrior, the kind that would be a good leader. A warrior with compassion and inner strength in his knowledge of himself and others. He knew how to make himself and others _stronger _than they thought possible. He was...perfect.

She wasn't stupid (although there were rare times when she questioned her abilities in some areas), but there were many things about what he could do and who he was that she didn't understand. Things that had fascinated and scared her, but had never made her want to leave. To the contrary, they engrossed her mind so that she was compelled to stay, to watch, to learn, to see. Lately, Brennan had realized that she was also compelled to stay because of the feelings he engendered within her, and for the beautiful way his feelings colored his thoughts and actions. Booth was as powerful and ever-changing as her favorite sunrise over the Atlas Mountains, with light and depth and colors she didn't know existed. And until today, to her, he had been just as intangible.

As a scientist, the intangibles usually didn't interest her. She wasn't designed to appreciate the _"je ne sais quoi"_ that revved Angela or the "gut" that directed Booth. Truthfully, she wasn't sure that she believed there were things that _weren't _quantifiable, but she had grudgingly come to acknowledge there were things she couldn't explain. She understood why Booth's smell or the far-distant outline of his shape might kick up inside her a little thrill of recognition, feelings of belonging and pride, because he was her alpha, the male leader of her pack. She was of course the alpha female (even in her own mind, she immediately inserted this fact, along with the observation that in many cultures the alpha female was the most important member of the group). But as he had put it so long ago, as a pair, they were the center. Brennan didn't get it at the time, but by being both _in_ the pack and _of_ the pack, they were also the center to each other. He had certainly been tricky, sliding that one by her.

And now, stubborn though she was, she had to face that Seeley Booth had taken up permanent residence in her fantasies and dreams. No matter how many times she slammed those doors, denied his charms, or chastised herself for sentimentality, he returned the very next time she closed her eyes or touched herself. The hands she had scrupulously observed writing or shooting or just making wild gesticulations, _those_ hands were the ones that always touched her. _His_ voice was always the one that growled her name in her ear. If she believed in a god or goddess, she might have asked for help in pushing him out, but she didn't believe. She knew there was no help. It was her own battle to fight, and Temperance, the genius, the queen of her discipline, had finally accepted another thing she couldn't explain away: when she had come that afternoon, with Seeley's voice in her ear, his words and mind caressing her over the phone line, _that_ orgasm was like nothing else she had ever experienced. _The bastard hadn't said more than 20 words to me before I was begging._ She begged him to release her, and because she asked, he did.

_Oh, god, what a sweet, sweet release that was_. She felt it in her toes, in her nipples, in her womb, in her lips, in every particle of muscle and bone that couldn't move, because by the very act of promising, he had delivered her to the place she couldn't reach alone. Like sky diving and wine and the sunrise all in one. Brennan turned her head and looked at the clock. He would be here soon. She still lay on the bed in _that_ bra, through which she could see her nipples pushing in irritation and elation. One hand still rested on the lace between her legs, wet and cool. The other lay to the side, where she had discarded the vibrator as soon as she stopped shaking, unable to take a second more. If she stayed like this, lying sprawled on her bed, legs spread, the smell of her satisfaction radiating from her, smile loose and luscious—if she stayed like _this_, when he arrived, the decision would be made for her. He could use his key and let himself in. Not seeing her in the usual places, knowing what he had to know, he would be drawn back here. She could imagine his face and, if she were honest, his erection. _Oh, that would be so lovely._ Brennan yawned, stretching, arching her back and pointing her toes. She forced her hands through her hair, automatically moaning because it was so easy to imagine Booth's hands instead of her own. It almost made her giggle.

Brennan was alpha female for a reason: she was the smartest, bravest, strongest—in short, the best. Yes, she knew she was damaged, but Booth had taught her that just like bones, damage caused remodeling that made you even stronger than before. She could be strong for him, because of him. She could make it work. But she _was_ impatient, and the idea of lying in bed, waiting for him to appear like some fairy tale prince was losing its appeal. _I'd rather meet this dragon head-on_, she thought. Then she laughed, because it was funny—"dragon", "_head_-on". So many great euphemisms for penis.

The book had fallen off the bed, its pages bent rather violently from the way she had discarded it. After replacing it on the shelf, she walked to the bathroom to wash off her vibrator. Her robe lay on the chair by the mirror, and though it wasn't the sexiest thing she owned, when she pulled it on over the "fuck me" bra and panties, she became aroused again. It was something he would love—terry cloth, warm and nubbly and soft, in a girlish rose color that made her skin glow. She felt beautiful. Brennan looked honestly at herself in the mirror. If she was going to talk to Booth, she needed to be certain of what she planned to do. Adhering to the facts was something she could do, and she owed it to him, finally. The fact was, she wanted them to be an alpha pair in all the ways they could be, and she wanted it to start as soon as possible.

Common sense told her that leaving on the bra and panties would be the smart thing to do, because Booth would love finding out they were beneath the robe, and Brennan knew she was smart. _My common sense has been very good today._ She turned and walked out to meet him.


	5. Partners

A/N: Sorry for delay, family health stuff intervened. This is B&B, but NOT smut. Total build-up, though, so hang with it. And I still don't own B/B, I know that. Finally, I've decided I'm not above begging for external validation; I like what I write, but anyone else who does, I'd love to hear from you.

**Partners**

Paperwork.

They would be doing paperwork.

Booth really had been at the pizza place when he called Bones, parked outside, because if, for some reason, she had put him off, he was going to cover the whole damn thing with sausage and extra pepperoni. But he'd hoped she would want to get together, really hoped that he'd need to order half the pie with mushrooms and olives. _The Kalamata olives are pretty good, actually. Maybe I'll get some on my half. _ He had called her, hoping to spend a nice evening with her, hoping to have the opportunity to do penance after his lustful thoughts about her. Yeah, that was it. _Penance. _ He was going to sit with her all evening, looking at her in that cute ponytail, probably wearing some sweats (_or yoga pants!_ his evil half interjected) and an old t-shirt...

And they would do paperwork, like partners always do.

They had a case to help prepare, and the government expected them to do it.

But how in _God's_ name did the government expect him to work when she sounded like that? Did they _know_? It suddenly occurred to Booth that since he was a Federal agent, it was quite probable that they did actually know how hot Bones sounded, since they probably had their own little squints listening in. Thinking about that made him angry, because _no one else_ should have heard those words and those sounds coming from her lips. Just thinking about the words "her lips" was almost too much, after the mess he'd gone through earlier that afternoon. If he hadn't already been so sore from the extreme workout he put his little guy through, it would probably be rising up again to mock him. _Her lips, right here, buddy, smoochie smoochie!_

_Shit._ Apparently soreness wasn't enough to keep him down.

He still needed to get the pizza. He'd order olives on the whole pizza, to show her it was one of the many things they had in common. They both liked the saltiness, the earthy musk of them. He pictured her grabbing one off the pizza and popping it in her mouth. Then he replayed the image, slower, and this time she looked at him before sliding the olive into her mouth, licking her fingers as she pulled them away. _This was so very, very, very bad_.

Barely remembering to remove the keys from the ignition, he bolted from the truck and hit the front door just in front of a family of six. _Screw them! Bones needs pizza!_ He waited at the counter, shifting from foot to foot, thinking he must look like some sort of weirdo with a pizza addiction, desperately needing a fix. The girl at the counter, of course, was thinking no such thing; rather she stood a little bit taller, thrusting out her perky teenage chest just a little bit more, then licked her lips before she smiled at one of her favorite customers.

"Hi, Agent Booth! Parker not with you this weekend?"

"Uh, no, Sam, he's with his mom. I'm here for me and Bones." He didn't even return her smile, he was in such a rush to place his order. "I need—"

"Your usual then?" she asked helpfully.

"No, this time, sausage on half, mushrooms on half, and Kalamata olives on the whole thing."

"You got it."

"Can you rush it?" he asked with a pleading look_._

She leaned forward, speaking softly, and smiled up at him again. "I'll bump it to the front of the line." This time, he smiled back. Anyone that helped him get to Bones sooner was an angel, in his book. The girl could tell that whatever she had done, it was good, because his smile made her stomach flip. Too bad he was an old guy (and a cop), because she'd _soooooo_ love to get a taste of him.

Booth paced nervously for almost 10 minutes, then his phone rang again. _Shit. Bones._ "Hey, Bones, what's up?" _What's UP? You are, stupid! What an idiot._

"I was just wondering, um...when you called earlier, I was distracted. You're coming over here, right?" He could hear nervousness in her voice, a touch of uncertainty. "I mean, I made it clear that I wanted you to come over, correct?"

"Yeah, Bones, I'm just waiting for the pizza." Just then, they called his name and slid the box across the counter. He already had the money in his hand, so he slipped it to Sam (with an extra couple bucks for her help). "In fact, it just came out, so I'll be there in five. Okay?"

"More than okay. I'm starving."

So was he. "I hear you, Bones. See you soon." He closed his phone as he pushed through the door.

"Bye, Agent Booth!" He waved his hand over his shoulder, not even pausing. Nothing could slow him down when he was charged with a mission, and Bones said she was starving.

Traffic was a bit annoying, and he toyed with the idea of using his siren—it was a kind of emergency, after all—but in the end, he just took a short cut through the back of an office complex parking lot. His SUV squealed into a space in the visitors' lot, and Booth was waiting for the elevator before his five minutes had ticked away. Waiting for the elevator, it dawned on him that he had absolutely no idea what would happen when he got upstairs. _What the hell? What's she going to do?_ The elevator door slid open, and he almost didn't get in. _Is she going to be pissed at me?_ He pressed the button for her floor. _What am I going to do? She has to know that I know what she was doing. _ He walked to her apartment door. _Oh, Jesus, I think I'm having a heart attack. _He raised his hand to knock, and the door flew open. _Shit!_

Brennan stood there, her hair in a ponytail, but instead of sweats and a t-shirt, her bathrobe was wrapped tightly about her. The hand that didn't have a death grip on the doorknob was shoved down in the pocket of her robe, and, he could tell, clenched. "Hello, Booth." She turned and walked into the living room, clearly (and correctly) expecting him to follow.

"Hiya, Bones." He chuckled. "I didn't realize dress was casual tonight. Pajama party?" _What the fuck did he just say? He didn't mean it. Oh, God, she was going to kick him in the balls._

"I've never heard about that kind of party before. People just wear pajamas? That sounds rather odd."

"Ha-ha, it's just something kids do, you know—having other kids to sleep over, watch movies, eat pizza," he indicated the box he was carrying. "I was just making a joke."

"Oh," she replied. She squinted up her face a little, then— "I guess we could invite Caroline over and have a prosecution pajama party." She laughed, proud of her own little joke.

Booth, although he did think it was funny, laughed entirely too hard at that. "That's hilarious, Bones! Good one!" _Halleluiah, she's not going to kick me in the balls!_ He could still blow it, though. "So, uh, beer? I mean, anthropologically speaking, the hunter has arrived with the kill, so let's eat, right?"

"You are correct. I'll be right back." She started toward to kitchen. "Do you want to sit at the table, or just on the sofa?"

"Uh, I think the sofa would be more comfortable for now, is that okay?"

"If it weren't okay, I wouldn't have suggested it. I agree with you." She brought two bottles, plates, and napkins to the coffee table. "Where are the files?"

_Shit_. "Uh, I guess I left them in the car. Must be hungrier than I realized." He put the pizza on the table and opened the box. Steam rose in a little cloud, and the smell filled the room.

"Mmmm." Hunger was evident in her voice. "Don't worry about it—you might have just gotten pizza on them, anyway, which has a slight tendency to annoy her."

Again, he laughed too enthusiastically. "You're on a roll tonight, Bones."

"I'm what?"

"It means you're sense of humor is working well tonight, and your jokes are funny."

"Oh. Thank you." She looked quite happy at this, which of course made Booth happy, too.

_That's great. We're both happy, we've got pizza and beer, and all is good in the world._

"The pizza looks very good. Was Sam working tonight?" As they often stopped at the same place during the week, Brennan was familiar with the girl and some of the other staff. She asked particularly about Sam because it amused her to see how Booth interacted with a girl so obviously besotted with him.

"Yeah, she said to tell you hi. Asked where Parker was." He pulled out two pieces while she held plates underneath, catching the strings of cheese.

"Since we don't have the files right now, would you like to watch a movie? It would be like one of those parties, pajama parties? That little box you suggested I order arrived yesterday, and if you hooked it up we could choose from the list."

"You got your streaming video box? Cool! Let me at it." He jumped up, at the same time realizing that Bones had just invited him to a pajama party. _Wait, did she? Are we having a sleep over? _He began uncoiling the cables and plugging in the little box._ Shut up! She didn't say that. Father Mike is gonna kill me tomorrow._

"I see you ordered olives on the entire pizza. I knew you'd come around." He looked back at her, just as she picked a single olive off _his_ side of the pizza and slid it into her mouth. "I still don't want to eat meat, but that little bit of fennel in the sausage? It tastes wonderful with the olive." His mouth gaped as she licked her fingers. _No no no no no._

"Uh...yeah. I decided you're right—the olives are delicious." He tried to focus on getting the box plugged into her TV, but even that, with the male and female connectors, almost made his brain explode. _I'm not your brain, stupid._ "Shit."

"You okay, Booth? Did you hurt yourself?" She moved from the sofa to crouch down beside him, craning her neck to see back behind the TV where he was working. The collar of her robe spread slightly, and the long span of her collarbone and neck in the dim living room light made him...

"Fuck." He leaned back. "Bones, you just gotta give me room to work here, okay?"

"Sorry." She stood, and the robe pulled slightly at the the bottom, showing no more leg than Booth had seen with some of her skirts or, definitely, her swim suit, but the fact that it seemed as though he was _peeking_, and that it was her robe, made it infinitely harder to ignore.

"Just go sit back on the couch. I don't want mess up your cabling back here." In fact, he had just finished connecting the cables, but he needed to stay where he was to let his desire subside. He drew in a deep, ragged breath, closed his eyes, and thought about hockey. The feel of the ice, the slap of the stick against the puck, the crushing weight of an opponent slamming you against the boards. He raised his head and looked at her, sitting on the couch, legs drawn up under robe. Thinking about bodies slamming together wasn't really helping, especially when she looked so cute and vulnerable, so he decided to just make the best of it. He stood, holding the box in front of him. "Done."

"Great." Brennan had opened up her laptop and was on the movie rental site, reading the instructions for viewing movies on her new streaming player. "So all we have to do is add movies to the queue. What do you want to see?" Booth pressed the button turning on the TV and sound system.

"I dunno, something old, I think." _Something with chaste, wholesome women—no, that's no good, either._ "How about some John Wayne? Maybe Brando? _The Godfather_ is always good."

"Oh, here's one! The title sounds amazing, and it's Brando." She was really excited about it. "I love Paris."

"Wait, what?" His eyes widened and panic settled in his stomach.

"Give me the remote, it's in the queue now."

"Bones, what's this called? I really don't think I want to watch a movie about Paris." He was actually just terribly afraid that he knew exactly which film she was talking about.

"It's called _Last Tango in Paris_, starring Marlon Brando. This says it's a classic, and look, it's actually a recommended film for me." She picked up the remote to start the movie. "The tango is, anthropologically, one of the most interesting and sensual dances I've ever experienced. It began in the Rio de la Plata area of Argentina and was heavily influenced by the dance tradition of the slaves-"

"_Do you have any idea what this movie is about?"_ Booth asked in a strangled, high-pitched voice. "I can't watch this! It's like, a sex film, it's porn! I can't watch this with you, Bones!"

"Does that mean you'd watch it with someone else?"

"What? No!"

"If you'd rather be with someone else now, Booth, you should probably have made better plans. I realize you were expecting Parker this weekend, so I thought movie night would be a good family entertainment substitute." She actually looked hurt. _What was she doing to him?_

"Look, I'm really happy to spend the evening with you, Bones, but we can't watch this movie together. It's just...I just can't. Please, _please_, just pick something else."

"Fine. I'll watch it sometime on my own."

"You do that. I'm sure you'll find it very entertaining."

"What does that mean?"

"I mean, you love all that sex stuff, so it'll be right up your alley."

"My alley?"

"Forget it. Let's just pick something else, okay?" He picked up the laptop and began searching for another film.

"Are you angry with me, Booth? I don't understand what's wrong." She unfolded her legs and leaned toward him as he perched on the far end of the couch, as far as he could be from her and still be on the same piece of furniture. "I don't like arguing with you over something this silly, especially when I don't even really know what we're arguing about. What's wrong?"

"How about _His Girl Friday_? Howard Hawks—can't beat him for wit and class." He looked at her, concern radiating from her eyes, her beautiful mouth frowning. "Bones, I don't want to argue with you, either. I'm not angry. I'm just uncomfortable with that film. Please. It's also really sad, and I don't want a sad movie."

"I can understand that. Howard Hawks sounds great." She scooted down the couch, handing him his pizza and moving his beer within reach. "And you don't have to be sad tonight."

"I watched that film with a girlfriend once, and even the sex stuff was so depressing." He pulled a long drink from his beer. "It just made me feel really lonely."

Without another word, she started the movie. They didn't say anything for a while, just watched the movie, ate their pizza, and drank their beer. When they had finished eating, he paused the movie, and she carried the plates back to the kitchen, then, upon her return, sat closer to him on the couch and took his hand. "I don't want you to feel lonely, Booth. I'm sorry."

He pushed _Play. _"Don't worry about it, Bones." He rubbed the soft skin on the back of her hand with his thumb, paying no attention to Cary Grant or Rosalind Russell. The only thing in his mind was how wonderful her skin felt, and how the rest of her must feel at least this good. It was too much. He needed to go home. "Bones, I can't stay. I have to leave."

"But if nothing is wrong, why do you have to leave?" She looked at him with such big eyes. He could see so much more than either of them was brave enough to say. She needed him to to stay.

He couldn't. "I just..." He stood and took their empty bottles back to the kitchen. "I started reading your book today. Thanks again for the gift. As usual, it's really good." _Too good_, he thought, remembering the page he had folded.

"Thank you. What do you like about it?" She had followed him to the kitchen, her robe slightly twisted from sitting on the couch.

"You totally nailed the crime scene. I don't know how you make it all real on the page like that," he paused, shaking his head. "It's just so alive, I can smell it."

"Don't you mean, 'It's so dead'?"

"Bones, that was awful." He groaned. "You gotta be careful with jokes like that. Not everyone is ready for your sense of humor."

"Well, at least you think I _have_ one now!" She punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"And thanks for what you wrote inside. I needed that today." Booth turned to face her, looking directly into her eyes. She looked much happier now, safe in their friendship and the knowledge that he approved of her. He reached out and tapped her on the nose. "You're definitely my best friend, too."

"Why did you need it today?" she asked.

Once that she said it, he stopped and wondered himself: _Why did I need it? It was a really good day, but..._ "There was just something missing. Maybe I was just missing Parker a lot, and you reminded me of something important. You're my family, too."

"I don't want you to go yet, Booth. I was feeling kind of lonely today, too. I couldn't get anything done, and I was just generally in a foul mood." Her brow wrinkled as she thought back over her day, remembering the frustration and...remembering how she'd been desperate to alleviate it. "Come finish the movie, at least."

He nodded, and she took his hand to lead him back to the living room. They sat closer together this time, his feet propped up on the coffee table, hers curled at her side. She didn't withdraw her hand, and he didn't offer to relinquish it. She started the movie again, but both of them seemed to be thinking about other things.

She leaned toward him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I like being family for you, but I'm not like Parker."

He shivered just a bit at her words, then tried to hide it with a chuckle. "Yeah, you're a tiny bit taller, use bigger words, and you're a _lot_ more annoying."

Booth could hear and feel her really smile, then. She laughed the throaty little laugh he loved. "Yes, those things may be true, but I'm also not...well, not your child, or your sister or anything."

_Shit, what do I say now? _ He was still for another moment. "I know; you're not a child; you're my partner. But I still get to protect you like you're, well, as close as Parker. You know me better than my brother, you've had my back more than he ever has."

He kept stroking her hand, almost afraid to breathe.

"Partners are honest with each other too, right?" Her eyes sought his, but he stubbornly kept them turned away. He couldn't look at her when she used that tone of voice, dressed as she was, close as she was.

"Yes. I trust you with everything I have, Bones."

"And I can trust you with everything, right?"

"Yes, Bones." _Please don't. Don't ask me for what I..please don't..._

"And if I ask you a question, you know I need the truth, and I can trust you to give it to me, right?" She rotated her hand in his and brought both to her lap

"You know I'll do my best." _God, I would give you anything._

"But sometimes you won't. Is that what you mean?"

"I'm not sure if that's right. I mean, I don't think I could ever lie to you now, Bones. But if it was a matter of protecting you, I don't know. I would always try my best to give you what you need."

"But what about what I _want_?" With her fingertips of the other hand, she traced a slow, tickling circle on the back of his hand. He flinched. "Don't you like that?"

"I can't talk about this now, Bones." He tried to withdraw his hand, but she refused to release it.

"Please don't pull away from me, Booth. I want to know you're here with me."

He didn't answer, but her skin was so soft. _God help me. _ He allowed her to continue, then just as tentatively, his thumb shifted to the delicate skin of her wrist. All his desire to touch her flowed through his hand to hers, and she let him, let him touch her, stroke her, explore her. Not only _let_ him, but returned his gentle caresses. The intimacy in their hands almost made him weep, but he didn't stop.

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, her head on his shoulder, their hands together, her robe wrapped a little less closely than he wished, but more tightly than he dreamed.

Finally, and horribly, the film was over. They were both quiet, for a few seconds beyond _The End_, but soon he sat forward and cleared his throat. "What did you think of that one, Bones?"

"It was a very interesting portrayal of marital and non-marital relations."

"That's a unique way of putting it, I guess," he chuckled. " I thought they would have a great marriage this time around." He had her in his peripheral vision, watching for signs of pleasure or discomfort. "I mean, Hildy was a strong, capable, career-driven woman who didn't take any bunk from any man. I thought you'd appreciate that."

"Bunk?"

"You know, guff, baloney, nonsense. She didn't let any man get the upper hand in an argument." _Strong, independent and beautiful, like you, silly woman. Maybe we shouldn't have watched this movie, either. _"Totally your kind of woman." _And mine._

"Of course. But her choice wasn't between getting married and having a career, it was between _two_ marriage candidates, still implying that a woman must be married to have a place in society."

That irked him. Facing her now, he defended his position. "Yeah, but she worked for the paper even after she and Walter were divorced. She was successful on her own. Then she _chose_ to get married because it felt right." _I know what she thinks about marriage; why am I trying so hard with this? _

"I suppose you're right, but still, she was alone only for a brief period until she found another suitable mate." He could tell she was enjoying this: eyes sparking just a bit, that small smile on her lips. His irritation subsided a bit. _She's just being Bones. I can't help loving her for it._

"You have to admit, though, Walter made a very 'suitable mate'. It's Cary Grant, for Pete's sake."

"It's true that both Grant and Russell are wonderful specimens, and they seem to have such energy between them. Their offspring would have been quite handsome." Brennan removed her ponytail elastic and rubbed the back of her head, loosening her hair and relieving the tension of having it pulled back so long. The scent of her shampoo drifted to him, filling his mind with the soft smell of her.

She sighed and gave a little chuckle. "Their arguments are very amusing, because it's obviously foreplay instead of animosity." Then she paused and scrunched her face, annoyance showing in the set of her mouth. "I know there were a lot of jokes in the film that I didn't get, even though you help me. Despite that, however, I still very much enjoyed it."

"Right now you don't look like you totally enjoyed it. You look bothered."

Her face remained quizzical. "No, I really did." She pulled her hair forward and hung her head down a bit, creating a curtain around her. "I think it might be one of my favorites. It...reminded me of us. The way we bicker."

_Damn. She was right._ "Well, I'm no Cary Grant. I don't think I could talk that fast," he laughed uncomfortably.

"No, you're not, but you are just as athletic and attractive. He was an acrobat before becoming an actor, you know, so I doubt you would have his flexibility. But his broad shoulders and narrow hips are quite similar to your physique, and you both have very masculine faces. "

Booth preened slightly, feeling especially strong and manly whenever Brennan praised his physique. "Yeah, well, you're not so bad yourself there, Bones." He tried to slip back into relaxation mode, leaning back with his arm sprawled across the back of the sofa. This kind of talking he could do. "Hildy was wearing some pretty wild suits, though. That 40s stuff was kind of crazy, with the hats and all. Those stripes almost made me dizzy."

She laughed, then also leaned back, her hair falling across his arm. "Don't you like what I'm wearing?"

_What the hell, Bones?_ He couldn't answer her. He could feel the silk of her hair and the warm terrycloth of her robe. It was pulled open at the neck again, her legs extended to the table alongside his, and the expanse of skin was hypnotic.

She kept talking. "Perhaps if we added a hat..."

"No. You look beautiful." _Aw, hell. Please, God, make it so I didn't actually say that. _

They both held their breath. Finally, she smiled, whispered, "Thank you."

His heart finally started beating again. "Well, I should be going, I guess."

"Booth, don't be ridiculous. It's early. Why don't you go down and get the files so we can get our work finished."

"I dunno, Bones, and ruin a beautiful evening?" He smiled at her charmingly, praying alternately that she would ask him to stay, then that she would say good-night.

"It's only 8:30! Let's just get it over with. I achieved so little today, I need tomorrow to write and catch up on a couple articles." She looked at him with that penetrating way she had. "You don't have anywhere you need to be, do you? Like a date or something?"

_Whipped!_ "Yeah. I mean, no! Yeah,okay, working makes sense, that's what I meant." He sighed. "I'll be right back." Before he could change his mind, Booth stood and grabbed his keys, slipped his shoes on, then headed downstairs. He could still run, but of course, he wouldn't.


	6. Partnership

**A/N: An early announcement for October: Nat'l Breast Cancer Awareness Month. My mom was diagnosed with stage 1 breast cancer in August, and the past few weeks have been consumed with getting her the care she needed. I'm guilty of being lax, possibly because I dread knowing if something is wrong, but please, remember to take care of yourself. Breast cancer treatments are so common place and effective now, there's NO reason to neglect your health. **

**So, please accept my a****pologies for lateness, for not replying to reviews, etc. I so much appreciate the time you take to read and respond to my work. This last chapter is *exceptionally* long, but I couldn't make it shorter. This is how I needed to tell their story. As for all other things ever written, this writer would appreciate knowing if her words moved you.

* * *

  
Full Partnership  
**

Booth didn't run, but he did take as long as he possibly could retrieving the files from the back seat. He was having difficulty deciding who he was more pissed off at: Bones, for being sexy and sweet and lovely; or himself, for being an obnoxious horndog. _God, I am just so tired of this! She's breaking me down._ He slammed the door shut and stood leaning against the truck. _Fuck. Now I have to go back upstairs and look at her in that damn robe again. Sitting on the couch with her like we're ready for bed, or across the table from her like we're eating breakfast. My life is shit. _Maybe if he just stood there long enough, it would all go away. Or at least maybe his dick would shrink back down to something less painful. He'd been harboring an erection of varying degrees ever since she leaned over him hooking up that damned machine. No, ever since the pizza place. _God is making me pay. _He stared up at the sky, clutching the files in front of his groin, breathing deeply of the cool night air.

There was also that other problem, besides how his body called out for her even when they were apart. It was that he never wanted to do anything without her any more. Even paperwork was tolerable, no, _fun_ with her. Anything that put him in the same room where he could smell her, look at her, touch her...no matter how terrible something was, being with her made it something worth going through. Despite what he had believed about his son—that nothing could be better than being a dad and basking in his son's love—even that was better with Bones. They felt like a family together, and no, she wasn't like his child or his sister.

His phone rang. _Maybe it's a case and I can avoid all this. _ It wasn't. "Need something, Bones? I'll be back upstairs in just a few minutes."

"I just wanted to make sure you were coming back. I thought maybe you'd decided to leave."

"I'd never leave without saying goodbye to you, Bones," he said, feeling bad that she'd wondered about him. "I'm just enjoying a little air."

"I hoped you wouldn't." She was quiet.

_See how she makes me smile? Idiot. _"Anything else, Bones?"

"I've got ice cream."

He let out a short, restrained burst of laughter. "In that case, I'll be right up." Why did he cave so easily? _Because she was inviting me back, trying to sweeten the deal, because she doesn't know that nothing could be sweeter than she is._

He stayed only a moment more, trying to decide what he was going to do. Booth no longer felt bad about his fantasy that afternoon. Well, not that bad, anyway—he'd still spend a lot of time in the box on Sunday. But _he_ knew that he was in love with Bones, and maybe it was time that he did something about it. He had to. It was time to either go forward or stop, and he didn't think it would be possible to stop. _I might as well try to stop breathing._ But then, what if it all went wrong? That would be worse. He couldn't lose her, not after everything else.

Back in the elevator, he was still attempting to come up with some sort of plan. _Every well-prepared soldier has a plan to follow._ He came up with nothing. His brain was a vast, spinning vacuum of nothing. Nothing except the cloud of panic flirting around the edges of his consciousness. Nothing except the wave of fear that threatened just beyond the wall he'd built against it. Nothing except an acute awareness that he was still (and now almost painfully) erect inside his jeans. In the end, it was that primal desire that motivated him out of the elevator and down the hall, where he once again paused to stared at her door. _Way to lead with your dick, asshole._ And once again, she surprised him by opening the door. _Shit, it's like Spidey sense or something._

Brennan had changed out of her robe into the dreaded cute t-shirt and low-slung yoga pants. Booth gave thanks that at least it wasn't her pajamas (he'd accidentally seen those once and had spilled coffee all over her rug). Neither said a word as he walked in, kicked off his shoes and carried the files to her dining table. He realized what his big plan was going to be: chickening out. "I thought we could work over here. You know, so we don't get distracted."

"That's fine, Booth. Do you want ice cream?"

"Do you even have to ask, Bones? Bring it on, baby." He smiled at her as she turned away to the kitchen, her ponytail once again in place, bobbing adorably at the back of her head. _Everything is back to normal. See? Didn't even need a plan. Thanks for helping me out, Big Guy._ He split the files into three piles, gathered pencils and a couple legal pads from the drawer, then took up his usual spot at the head of the table. He heard a muffled, protracted _whoosh_ from the kitchen. _Oh, man! Whipped cream!_ And in the same second, _Fuck! _Visions of cushions of whipped cream dotting her breasts, the rush of pure joy when he licked them off—he'd been mistaken; the help he'd requested had not come from above.

Brennan returned carrying two bowls, each with two scoops of some deeply chocolate decadence and mountains of whipped cream on top, but only one had a small piece of fruit on it. "I know these are disgusting, and I can't believe they're really fruit, but I eat them anyway," she said, nodding toward the bowl she offered him.

"What? You can't get more real than ice cream, Bones, unless you have some pie under there."

"No, I mean maraschino cherries." She set the bowls down. "I know you like them too, so you can have this one."

"Why can't we both-"

"Last one. But you sound like you need it more than I do, so you can have it."

His traitorous appendage reared up to mock him. _Now she's offering you her cherry!_ It really couldn't get more like a _Porky's _movie if they tried. Booth picked up his spoon and scooped up a chocolatey, creamy bite, then slid it into his mouth, closing his eyes against the sweetness of it. She was as sweet, just as...just as... He sat like that for a few seconds, calming himself, but when he opened his eyes, she was looking directly at him. At his mouth. He picked up the cherry and held it toward her.

"It's like ice cream sundaes when we were little, right? Bones, you can have this. This has been such a good night, I don't need anything else."

She smiled, but didn't reach out to grasp it; she leaned forward and took it with her mouth, brushing his fingertips with her lips as she did so.

He _saw_ her leaning in, _saw_ her mouth approaching, but until her lips actually _touched_ him, he didn't believe it would happen. The shock made his tongue hurt and tickle at the same time, like when he and Jared used to trick each other into "testing" batteries for science experiments.

And still, she smiled, slowly, chewing, then laughed and cocked an eyebrow. "Booth, I know you want to know, but you're not asking." She sat down in her chair, more slid, really, with one leg curled beneath her, the other foot swinging gently toward his leg. "I have studied you for a long time, and I can always see when you want to know something."

"Like what?"

"Why I was wearing my robe when you arrived."

_This is not fair. I quit, it's NOT FAIR._ "No, Bones, I didn't wonder. I figured you'd taken a shower or something."

"No." She dipped a finger in her whipped cream and licked it off, then picking up her spoon. "Not a shower. My hair wasn't wet."

He couldn't picture her in one of those old lady shower caps. "A bath, then."

"Nope." She took a swipe at her ice cream with the spoon.

Spoon to lips.

Tongue to ice cream.

Booth to God: _Okay, what am I supposed to do? Come on, give me one of those old-time Biblical signs! _ "I've got no idea why else you'd put on a _bath_robe, Bones. Usually has something to do with _bathing_." He shoveled in a huge bite, risking a headache in his desperation. "Hey, this is great ice cream. What brand it is, Ben and-"

"We said that partners are honest with each other, right?"

One beat. Two beats. Three. Swallow. "Yeah."

"And that partners help each other."

_Get it over with._ He sighed. "Yeah."

This time she paused and took a deep breath. She continued to stare at the bowl in front of her, but she sat up straight in her chair, the faded blue of her t-shirt showing little shadows where her nipples popped out _Shit. _"When you arrived today, I wearing my robe because I was planning on thanking you for helping me."

_Run._ "Helping you with what, Bones?" _Stupid stupid stupid!_ His brain was spinning again, and at her last words, his dick had swollen to painful proportions inside his jeans. _Oh, God, I'm not ready, I'm not ready..._

Finally, she looked at him. Not his ice cream or his lips, but into his eyes, into what he believed was his soul. She looked at him, and a tiny, gentle, hopeful little smile played at her lips. "You helped me work through some frustration, Booth. I was pretty sure you were aware of that."

Booth wondered if there was any possible way that this could not be happening. He remembered being on his sofa at home, and he had been really, really tired after that torrential orgasm (_which had also been her fault)_, so maybe he'd just fallen asleep? Maybe he'd fallen asleep, and this was...He almost snorted with laughter at himself. Seriously, who was he kidding? He'd have no such luck.

"Come on, Booth," her voice was low, like she was telling him a secret, but one she hoped that he already knew. "Be my partner. Help me out. I'm trying to talk to you, but it's difficult for me to bring this up without...without scaring you."

Be her partner. Be what she needs. "Sure, Temperance." _She depends on me, and I can't let her down._"Sorry. What you're saying is important to me."

She sighed with relief, and with her smile, relief washed over him, too, and absolved him. "Yes, like that. You're so good at knowing how to make me feel better about my communication skills." She swirled her ice cream in the bowl, around and around. "As I was saying, since you helped me this afternoon, I want to return the favor."

And just as quickly as it had arrived, his relief was gone; he clenched everything. _Shit, what does that mean?_ "Uh...I didn't realize I needed help, Bones." He was absolutely the deer in her headlights.

"I want to tell you why I was wearing my robe." Brennan stood up and held out her hand to him. "Come sit with me on the couch?"

He tried. "Aw, Bones, my ice cream will melt." But he really had no choice. Her eyes and smiling lips were compelling, and he followed. She led him to a place on the end, then lifted his feet up, guiding him to turn sideways and partially recline. "There." She sat beside him on the edge of the cushion. "When you called me today, Booth, do you know what I was doing?"

His eyes closed and a prayer screamed forth from his mind. He could play dumb. To do anything else would _be_ dumb. _Breathe deep, hold steady, eye on the target. _Dumb he could definitely do. On the other hand...she was right: he did know what she was doing. He could be honest. He could go forward, _they_ could go forward. They could evolve, because, as she would tell him, that which does not evolve becomes extinct. He could not bear the idea that his feelings for her would go away. _Breathe deep._

"I know, Bones."

Her pupils grew huge and her neck flushed. "Do you know why I was wearing my bathrobe?"

"Not really."

"You want to know, though, correct?" He nodded as though accepting a verdict. A single finger of her slender hand trailed up his forearm, causing his entire flesh to tingle and rise. "I was wearing my bathrobe because, after my tremendous orgasm, I was too tired to get dressed. I knew you'd arrive any moment, but I just lay on the bed, thinking of you."

His pulse raced, his jaw tightened, but he answered. The words almost choked him. "It was good." Was he even still breathing? "You sounded good." He couldn't manage to say anything more.

"I came so hard, Booth...Seeley, that I couldn't move for several minutes. I had needed it so badly."

He saw an opening, a last chance for reprieve. "So you're better now? That's good, right? Really good. So we can work."

"But I haven't helped you yet, Seeley."

He tried again to deny it, but instead, entirely different words spilled out, "How do I need to be helped, Temperance?" _Why do I let my dick ask questions?_

"We're both lonely, Booth. We're best friends, which means we love each other, but...we love each other in ways besides friendship, too."

He held his breath. "Yeah."

"So you'll admit to that."

_It will hurt! Don't make me. _ "Yes."

She bit her bottom lip, held it, then wet them both, trying to get the question worded just right. "So why won't you touch me?"

"But I touch you all the time!" he gasped. "I can hardly keep my hands off of you!"

"But you don't touch me like I want you to touch me, or even the way you want to touch me. The way I imagined this afternoon." Her fingers trailed lightly over his arm, belying the effort this was costing both of them. "You don't touch me honestly, Booth."

Now he'd really screwed it up. He had planned to say something earlier but talked himself out of it, only to have _her _decide to take point and drive. _Oh, Jesus, this hurts in so many ways. I am such a wuss._ Suddenly, another voice in his mind yelled out, _Man up, Booth! How many signs do I have to send?_

_Huh?_

The voice was right. He'd asked for a sign. What more did he need? A notarized letter? A lightning bolt? A special "Song of Seeley" book about all the ways he loved Temperance? _Book? Wait. _He already had a book about how Temperance loved him. "Your book."

One eyebrow raised as her mouth quirked into a more amused version of her shy smile. "Yes?"

"I was reading it today."

"I know. You told me."

"There was one part I couldn't read."

"Why was that?"

_She had to know already, she did know, he was sure of it._ "Well, uh, actually, I started reading it, but then had to stop, because it was making me..." Could he really say the words? He shrugged and flushed with desire thinking what it would do to her, for her, for him to say it. He needed to be honest. "I had to stop reading it because I was thinking of you. Stroking myself...and I had to come."

Brennan didn't say anything, just waited for him to go on. Her fingers still stroked his arm, but her other hand clutched at the hem of her t-shirt, and her hips raised slightly, thighs squeezed together.

He did go on. "I tried so hard not to think of you, but everywhere I turned today, you were there. Even on my run, that damn publicity photo of you..." He sighed yet again. "I give up. I can't fight it any more."

"You make it sound like you lost, like it's such a hardship."

"Walking around with a permanently swollen cock _is_ a hardship. And no puns, Bones."

She couldn't help the smirk, but rather than joke about his erection, her hand moved slowly from his arm down to the fly of his jeans. A well-worn button fly. She slipped the first button, then the second. "And finally, we get to the part where I can help you." She slid down on her knees. The third button, the fourth, the last...

"Oh, my." She breathed in deeply, smelling the musk of his undeniable arousal. "Oh, my. This is very nice."

_Shit. _"Nice?" _What did she mean, "nice"?_ "Way to help me out there, Bones." He couldn't joke his way out of this: she had him pinned on the sofa like a bug she'd chosen to examine.

"No, I meant, it's nice when dreams are true." He groaned. With both hands now, she stroked up his thighs to his cock, running her palm along the hot, delicate, baby-soft skin over the steel of it. "You're large and lovely, Booth. Delicious, in fact." She lowered her lips to his head and rubbed them gently along the ridge of his glans, breathing across him.

He fought the urge to push into her mouth. He was surprised that he succeeded in restraining himself to only one tiny thrust toward her glistening lips. _Breathe deep, hold steady, stay on target._ "Bones, what are we doing? I need to know." His voice was pained with the exertion of speaking and of holding back.

Whether she was trying to spare him embarrassment, or she couldn't tear away from the feeling of him against her skin, it didn't matter, but she kept her mouth whisper close to him while she answered. "I'm going to lick and suck you until you come in my mouth, Seeley. And while I'm doing it, you're going to tell me what you thought about this afternoon when you masturbated." She started to slide her lips over him, around him—

"Wait!" His hand shot forward to cup the back of her head, his fingers buried in her hair, just barely pulling her away, buying a moment.

She looked up, her pupils hugely dilated in her deep blue-grey eyes.

"Bones, what does that _mean?_" If he wasn't in such agony, it would seem hilarious that he would be the one to utter those words. "What do you want from me? Where is this going?"

In her everyday, matter-of-fact, lab-explanation tone, she replied, "It means that I think we should be real partners, Seeley, in every contemporary way people in our society are, with all the benefits attached to such partnerships. I thought about it, and I decided that I want you all for myself." Lowering her face again, she sucked his beautiful cock into her mouth.

And there it was. Full blown, unstoppable, earth-rending arousal, just because she'd gone all specific and _Bones-y_ on him (and was sucking his penis, too, of course).. _Fuck fuck fuck._ Except this time...slowly he realized, this time he actually _could_ fuck-fuck-fuck. The door was not only open, she'd reached out and was pulling him in by his, well, you know. "And...and you want me to tell you, Temperance?" His voice was raw, gravelly, barely audible. "I don't know if I can. It was..."

She nodded, her mouth still full, and the pulling caused by the nod almost made him explode. "Oh, God, please, Bones, don't end me like this. I can't—oh, God..." She sucked him in as deeply as she could, pulled back just a little, then wrapped her hand around the wet base of his erection. Booth's eyes began to close, but he couldn't let himself lose sight of the woman in front of him, loving him, giving of herself and taking from him. After a minute of silence, she figured out that he wasn't capable of saying anything more, so she slowly withdrew completely, his cock now red and slick and quivering.

Brennan looked at his face, a mixture of masculine beauty and exquisite agony. "You have to talk to me, Seeley. You not only heard me this afternoon, your voice was the catalyst I needed for completion." She made a moue of displeasure. "And partners share. It's your turn."

For Booth, good, polite, Catholic man that he was, it was nearly an impossible choice: tell her all the dirty things he'd thought about doing to her this afternoon, or lose the lips of his Bones delivering the blowjob of a lifetime. But he'd had a sign, hadn't he? A big flashing sign that said, "Yoo-hoo! Seeley! Take her, already!"

It was resolution time. _Hold steady. Keep your eye on the target._ His target was not just to _get_ Bones, but to _keep_ Bones, forever if at all possible. If that required saying every dirty, sloppy, sexy thing he'd ever dreamed about doing to her (while allowing her to suck his cock), well, he would just have to man-up and do it.

He began trying to explain, and as he spoke, her hands and mouth went to work. "I wasn't even going to read it today. _Mmmmmmm._ I was just, _uhh_, enjoying a guy kinda day. _Oh, God, Bones, please..."_ He stopped talking, just kept his eyes closed and whimpered a little. Her mouth froze, but her hands continued to massage the base of his cock and his balls, both slick with her saliva. _Fuck, I'm going to shoot all over without even getting inside her. Just like fucking high school._

"Booth, you have to tell me so I know better what to do. I want to be able to...make it exceptional for you."

He whimpered again. He tensed his thighs and actually bounced in his seat a little, like a child being denied candy. "Bones, don't you understand that you doing _anything_ makes it exceptional?" _I thought she was a genius!_ "God, that's part of the problem!"

She snickered just a little. "Yes, I know. But won't it be fun to see if we can work through this problem? That's something partners do, right?" Half speaking to herself, she then muttered, "Hmm, we should probably establish a baseline if we're going to experiment..."

He was appalled. "Yeah, sure, Bones—this has 'partners' written all over it. Sweets would love it."

"I'm finding that this is a great team-building exercise."

"What, while one partner talks about how they get off, the other performs oral sex on her?"

"On _her_, huh?" Brennan's expression didn't quite conceal her eager anticipation of the moment.

"Hell, yes. Don't think I'm not claiming my half when we're done."

"We'll discuss that when the time comes. But that will be only after you do."

He groaned again.

She grinned. "See that? Notice how I made that witty little play with _come_, Booth?"

"Shut up, Bones." He curled his fingers through her hair and pulled her face close to his. "You want smut, I'll do my best to give it to you." He leaned down and bit her lower lip, at the same time surprising her by grasping a nipple and pinching, tugging. "But I can't guarantee how long I'll last."

He leaned back and attempted to gather himself for a hell of a battle. "Once upon a time, Seeley Booth had time to kill...: _Breathe deep. Stay on target._ "It was such a beautiful day, and I had a great run, but that afternoon I was gonna just hang out and watch football. Later, of course, I hoped to call you and meet up, pretend to do some work, but mostly just to see you." _If I can get her as hot as I am...maybe I can make it last...or break her. _He released her nipple.

"De uddah un," she ordered, her mouth still full of him.

_I love it. I'll do anything you want._ He did.

"All day, you kept popping into my mind, like you were everywhere. I saw your picture at a book store, and your eyes—I love your eyes, Bones." Loved her nipples, her lips, her tongue, her hips, her _everything. _"After my run, I took a shower." He stopped. The only sound was the soft, wet sound of her lips on his cock. He took a deep breath, "Ahhhhh," spread his knees wider, threaded his fingers deeper into her hair, "the shower felt so good, Bones. Wet, hot, pounding my muscles, releasing all that good tension from my workout." She loosed a satisfied groan all around him, and he felt the vibrations in his toes. He couldn't help it; he raised his hips, pressing deep against the back of her throat. "Oh, God, Bones, I can't—I won 't last—please..."

With a look of consternation, she released him and sat back on her heels. Her lips were wet and swollen. _If I kissed her now, her mouth would taste like my cock. Oh, God..._ "You're begging for mercy already, Booth?"

"Yes...I don't know." _What do I do? What do I do? _ "Should I beg for mercy?"

"You don't want mercy, Seeley," those swollen lips purred. "You want me to get it out of you."

"Yes." _Of course._ "I'll do whatever you want, but you can't make me—it's too much, Bones."

"I will make it easier." She stood up and planted herself on the coffee table, directly in front of him. She gently guided his feet back to the floor, his knees apart, with her legs spread to block his open. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how hard I was making it. You're so delicious..." _Oh, God... _She smiled, licking her lips. He was completely exposed in front of her, and she was enjoying it. "Please, continue."

_Breathe deep._ He laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. "So, uh...after the shower, I went in the living room to watch football." He paused to laugh, "I was being all cave-man like, wrapped in just my towel, beer in hand—and don't say it, Bones."

"What?"

"That cavemen didn't have beer."

"Booth, I'm focused on how beautiful you must have looked, and on hearing about your masturbation technique. I'm filing away your beer fallacy for later."

_Was she kidding? Maybe_. "Anyway, there was no football, and there was no anything else worth watching. And I saw your book on the table."

"That's pretty insulting, Seeley. Nothing on TV, might as well read my book? You might need to be punished for that."

His head shot forward, eyes open in alarm. "No, no, no..." he laughed again, trying to pull his knees together.

"Hmm. We'll see. If you continue, perhaps I'll reconsider."

_How was it so easy to tease and make love with her? Why had he thought this would be difficult?_ "Yes, ma'am." He gasped as she puckered her lips and blew a cooling breath across his cock. "Ah! Stop!"

"Just keep to the facts, Booth."

Still smiling, he leaned back and closed his eyes again. _Give her a good story. _"The cover of your new book is kind of sexy, Bones. And then I looked at the picture of you at the back, and, well, you're sexy, too. I can't see your eyes as well as in the big poster, but your hair...I really love your hair. It's so soft and smells so good..." He could almost hear how much the compliment meant to her just by the sound of her breath. "When I opened to the title page, I saw what you wrote, and that was...that was probably too much for me, after thinking about how pretty you are. I mean, your words were so simple, but you meant them, I know, and..." He stopped again, then went ahead and risked it, but spoke softly. "It made me feel loved."

He kept his eyes closed to make it easier for her, to let her react however she wanted to without the extra weight of his gaze on her. But he was dying to know if he'd said too much. It took so long for her to speak, he was afraid she was preparing for retreat.

"You are."

The tension washed from his face and shoulders. He _was_ loved. _Ha! I was right!_ "I actually just touched and stared at the words for a little while. I could imagine you sitting at your desk, thinking and thinking, trying to get the words just right, then—well, what came out was so simple, but you knew it would mean the most to me."

"Yes."

"And I was so happy. Then I was jazzed to get to the story. I was lying on the couch, still wrapped in my towel, beer near at hand, and man, Bones, those first few chapters really flew. You're so talented, it just floors me."

"Hmph." He peeked out to see the twisted smirk on her face. "So talented that I'm a good read when there's nothing on TV."

He laughed again. "Exactly! So, I read the first chapters quickly. Then I got to chapter 12." His breathing grew slightly more labored while his hips rocked a little. _Go ahead. She wants to see._ He allowed his hand to drift to his dick, which was again reaching full arousal. "I was really annoyed that you would write something like that, Bones."

"Like what?" She knew exactly what he meant.

"So graphically sexual, so hot and...raw." His thumb stroked his cock. It was difficult keeping on task, talking about the orgasm that _was_, because with her in front of him, much of his mind was on the orgasms _yet to be._ "I was embarrassed. When I looked down; I'd spread my legs and I was pulling on myself, all because your words were so raw." _Hold steady. Stay on target._ "I so wanted to fuck you, but I couldn't even say it to myself."

She leaned forward to whisper, "I promise you can say it to me later, Booth."

"I plan to." He'd say and do, and he'd never finish with either. "So...I was by myself, and I thought, heck, I'd just go ahead and take care of it."

"You know me, Seeley; I need specifics."

He really _should_ have known there was no escape. "I though I would just go ahead and masturbate, because that's a normal guy thing to do when you're all alone and lying around on the sofa."

"So you do it all the time?"

"Well no, not _all_ the time. Sheesh, Bones, I'm not a sex maniac."

"What an archaic term."

He pushed on, "So I found a movie on TV that's has some sexy scenes in it. I got some lotion out and wrapped my hand—"

"From where?"

"Huh?"

"From where did you get the lotion?"

"God, Bones, from the drawer on the coffee table!"

"Is it a special lubricant?"

"It's just regular hand lotion! Vaseline or something. I don't want Parker finding any sex lotion at my house—"

"So you just keep a bottle of lotion there for..."

"For jerking off, Bones. Because my hand is good, but a my hand all slippery and squishy-sounding is better, okay? Are you satisfied?"

She squirmed and pressed her hand between her thighs. "Mmm, yes, very—for the moment. But I will probably want to see it. I enjoy collecting complete data. Wait just a second." She reached under the end table and pulled out a small basket that contained manicure items. "What scent do you prefer?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Of course not."

Of course not. "Is there one that just smells like you?"

"Booth, they all smell like me, since at one time or another I've used each of them. But here's my favorite: an all-natural almond honey lotion."

"Honey?"

"Yes, it tastes kind of good, too. Just in case." She dispensed a drop on the back of her hand, rubbed it in, then placed it under his nose.

"Oh...yeah, that's it. That one is good." She held his hand up and squirted two full pumps into his palm. His eyes flew open.

"That's too much, Bones. I'll get it all over—"

"First, do you really think the lotion is going to make this biggest mess this afternoon? And second, I want your simulation conditions to be as close to reality as possible."

"This is still way too much—"

"No, it's not." Her meaning seeped through to him. _Oh, God_. His hand tightened around his penis again, and his groan was firmament-shaking. "Yes, Seeley, I am really that lubricated at the thought of watching you masturbate. But you have to slow down so that we can both adequately enjoy your story."

Booth had already closed his eyes again, both to keep from looking at her and to bring back his fantasy from that afternoon. He _would_ get through this, even if it almost killed him, because there was treasure to be had at the end of this trial. He adjusted his grip and resumed his tale. "So after I had the lotion, I watched a scene from the movie. The girl is an exotic dancer. She came out wearing almost nothing except these sparkly blue panties and things pasted over her nipples."

"Like at the strip club?"

"Yeah. But she's on stage." He kept his eyes closed and stroked himself, trying to focus on the movie instead of his Bones sprawled open in front of him. "The girl reaches her tongue down toward her own nipples and squeezes her breasts together."

"Like this?"

His eyes flew open. Brennan had peeled off her t-shirt to expose the ivory lace bra. She'd cupped her hands under her breasts and squeezed them together, and they looked oh-so-much better than the girl in the movie. Hers were real, soft, luscious, not the plastic movie versions. "Oh, God, Bones. How..." He couldn't go on.

"This is the bra I put on this afternoon when I needed extra stimulation. Tell me what she was doing, and I'll do it."

"_Uhhhhhh_. Bones, I can't—" but he never loosened his grip.

"Yes, you can, Seeley. We'll both enjoy it if you do. What did she do next?"

He sighed. He did want it, but he wanted it so much, and why did she have to play this game? "She thrust her hips up. She was sitting on a chair with her legs spread...just as you're already doing. And she thrust her pelvis up so that..._ooooohh_...there was just this little strip of material between her legs, and you could see the outline of her...and then..." He stopped speaking, but he didn't stop pushing his cock up into his slick fist. He felt Brennan move her legs, heard her removing the yoga pants, but he couldn't look.

"Booth, tell me what she did." He felt her legs return to their position, holding his spread apart.

"But I couldn't come to her! I mean...well, she changed into you, and it scared me, so..."

"Is this how I looked in your fantasy, Seeley?" He cracked open one eye and saw the skimpy, tight ivory lace panties stretched over her, see-through with moisture. She rhythmically thrust her hips toward him, then, when she saw him look, slid two fingers inside and into herself.

His head fell back, eyes screwed shut tight, and his mouth wide open with a pained groan. "Better. This is better." His breathing, already labored, became harsh and ragged. He continued to pump hard. "I didn't imagine your fingers, Bones."

"Can you smell me?"

"Yes, oh, God, I want to taste you, please..."

She leaned forward and placed two wet fingertips in his mouth. Booth greedily sucked them in, thrusting faster into his fist at the same time. He could smell her, taste her, practically feel her riding his cock. "Booth, you said you couldn't come to that image. What else did you need?"

"Please, please, just let me come now. You taste so good, Bones. Please, just let me taste you and come..."

Instead of release, he felt her damp hand close around his wrist and pull it away from his throbbing dick. His teeth ground together and a growl like nothing she'd heard before came from deep inside him. "Booth, open your eyes."

He had to. She had complete power over him right now, and all he wanted to do was make her happy so she would finally let him come. When he looked at her, she had stopped thrusting her wet crotch toward him, but she still sat with her legs spread and that damned bra stretched too tightly over her nipples. Through clenched teeth, he asked again, "What do you want from me, Temperance?"

"This is how frustrated I felt today, except I couldn't climax. Tell me what else you had to do to climax, Booth."

"If you do it, Temperance, I'll die before I come. You can't do it."

She smiled. "Don't be absurd. No one has ever died because they weren't allowed to orgasm." She released his wrist and put both hands back on her breasts. "Tell me."

"Fine...I was angry, because there you were again. It wasn't fair—you just kept pushing all these other women out. I used to be satisfied imagining other women. But...I went back to a film I saw in college, a scene that always gets me off." He was thrusting again, lighter, though, trying to make himself slow down and really imagine the film. He wouldn't look at her, no matter what, because he couldn't last if he did.

Then she had the nerve to speak—she knew her voice would make it so much harder. She was torturing him on purpose. "It's common for people to go back to images that imprinted on us early in our sexual lives. I can only surmise that this didn't happen until college for you because of your restrictive religious upbringing."

Anger and sarcasm radiated from his voice. "Because I was a Puritan, yes, thanks, Bones. But if Puritans fucked like I did, there would have been a lot more of them." The image was in his mind—the average-looking guy fucking that average-looking woman's beautiful breasts. His eyes were still closed, but she was watching him without blinking. She was completely mesmerized.

"Tell me."

"This man and woman, maybe a little older than we are now, they're on the floor. She's leaning back on ottoman-thingy, and he's on his knees. Her breasts..." _Breathe deep._ "Her breasts are real, round, soft, delicious looking. And she's holding them together tight." He knew she was doing the same thing—he heard her take off the bra, and her breathing was more shallow, quicker. "He's fucking between her tits, and she's reaching down to lick the head of his cock every time he thrusts forward. Oh, God, she gets him so wet, he's just fucking and sliding between her tits, and she's moaning like she's going to come just from the feel and taste of his cock. Her breast, though—they are so beautiful...but it's not enough."

"I need more."

"Fuck, Bones, _I _ need more."

"Is this the last part? The part that finally let you orgasm?"

"Fuck, yeah, but smelling you, I could come now."

"Booth, tell me what to do, and we can do it together, the last thing."

_Oh, God._ He almost passed out hearing her. There was no blood left in his brain to know whether he answered, but he prayed he had said yes. "Get on your knees."

Brennan scrambled over the coffee table, still in her panties but breasts free. He finally opened his eyes and saw her kneeling. He pulled off his jeans and shorts, then dropped to his knees facing her. "I have to..." His mouth went to her nipples, sucking and groaning; she felt like he was trying to reach all the way down into her cunt through her breasts. And he wasn't completely failing.

"Booth, tell me."

Her panties were still on, and the way she was rotating and thrusting her hips, he figured they must have been pulling pretty nicely over her clit. _No no, Bones. _He slipped one finger into the tight lace. "Get these off, or I'll tear them off." She did, double quick. He sucked and licked her breasts for a few more seconds, then growled against her, "Hands and knees. Stretch your arms way out, shoulders down." He didn't take the time for her to get fully into position, just thrust his face into her pussy from behind, licking, drinking her in. She wasn't expecting it, and her arms almost collapsed. She moaned deep, loud. It was a good thing she was spread so far forward, or she would have fallen. His tongue probed inside her labia, then his fingers spread her wide and he moved to her clitoris. So swollen and hot, so red. He flicked her clit with his tongue, trying to break her, but she held on. He inserted two fingers, fucking her, while his mouth hovered, licking, then sucking, finally nipping at her. Brennan was almost screaming at this point, dripping all down his hand, but he couldn't stay away from the taste of her. He pulled out his fingers and thrust in his tongue again, lapping her, sucking her juices, rubbing her labia raw with the stubble on his chin.

"Please, Booth! What next? Please!"

"Then you beg me to fuck you, Bones."

"Oh, god, please, Seeley, fuck me! Please, please, let me come on your cock, please."

He barely paused between pulling back his mouth and sliding in his cock. He had swollen larger than he ever remembered before—painfully, almost purple with pent-up blood. He had to go slow. He _had_ to, or he wouldn't get two strokes off. But as soon as she felt his glans at her opening, she thrust back on him, and they both screamed. She pumped again, but he grabbed her hips and froze them both. He could hardly speak. "Bones, I _am_ begging for mercy now. God, please, slow down."

"Booth, I need you to fuck me. I can't wait."

"Temperance, honey," he whimpered, "please..."

"When the woman in your fantasy begged, did you give it to her?"

_Oh, yes._ "Yes."

"Don't you want me more than her?"

"Fuck, yes, Temperance."

"Then fuck me like you're trying to split me in half, Seeley. Fuck me so hard I see stars."

He couldn't hold it. He thrust in deep, deeper than he meant to, but it felt so good. "Fuck me so hard I can taste your come in my mouth." _Oh, God, what was she saying?_ "Think about coming on my tongue, Seeley." He was pounding her now, and she was thrusting back into each of his strokes. Her breath was coming so hard she could barely get the words out. "Think about my orgasm around your cock, oh god, so hard. You're going to shoot so deeply inside of me, I'll taste it. My mouth is open, Booth. Let me taste it. Oh, god, fuck me..."

He was grunting, fucking her harder than he'd ever before in his life, but he still managed to reach around, find her clit with his middle finger, rub into her hard—

"Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!" She spasmed, contracting around him, shook below him. "Oh god, oh, god, oh god, yes, oh, Booth, Booth, ahhh, ahhh," she whimpered unintelligibly, then thrust her ass back toward him one more time.

The sound from Booth's throat could only be called a roar. He came inside her so hard he was sure he had, as she asked, shot all the way to her tongue. Still he thrust and thrust, but his motions decreased as they both slowly came down. He folded over her back, kissed her, stroked her side. "Temperance. Temperance. Oh, God." He lay there, panting.

She collapsed fully on the floor, and he followed, trying to stay inside her but failing. Slowly their breathing returned to something close to normal, but still, neither of them spoke. She lay on her stomach, he on his side, his hand lolling on her back, unable to move but unwilling to leave her body. He lost himself in the smell of her skin and their mingled sex. Finally, he asked, "So this is how you help me, Temperance? Try to give me a heart attack?"

A pitiful little laugh rose from beneath her. "Your heart is in excellent condition, Booth, much like the rest of you." She groaned and rolled herself over to face him. "I would never have done anything to endanger our goal's ultimate achievement."

He snorted out an answering chuckle. "Good to know, Bones. Glad one of us was in control there." Exhausted though he was, he couldn't keep his hands away from her. _Oh, God, thank you for her._ "So, now will you tell me?"

"What?"

"You made such a big deal about the robe, but then you changed out of it."

"Yes."

He waited. "That's it? Just 'yes'? No explanation?"

The lazy smile on her face widened and she stretched, rolling toward him, her breasts arching against his chest. "I...well, I changed my mind, in a way."

"I wildly approve your way of chickening out."

"No, not that. In a way, but...no, not like that. I thought..." one hand settled on his shoulder, the other drew slow, ticklish lines on his abdomen. "I thought you might leave. And I knew I would come after you. I didn't want to drive in my bathrobe."

Booth's chest shook with barely contained laughter imagining Bones, eyes flashing and belt flying behind her, jumping into her little car and flying through the streets after him. He was flattered, no doubt, and it would have been so fun to unwrap her in his own apartment. "Hell, Bones, if you'd done that, we could gotten here much sooner." He was feeling better by the second and now had enough energy to fondle the breast that had been begging his attention for some while.

"_Mmmmmm_, yes, but Booth, it's not the time of arrival that matters; it's the quality of the journey." Her fingers swept lower on her next trailing loop of his stomach.

"Where did you get that idea? That's way too metaphorical for you."

She smiled a slow, wide post-coital smile at him. "You cracked the seal on my inner poet." Brennan slid her hand down to stroke him and aid his recovery.

He snickered, thinking about the seal he had cracked. "Great, now you're going to use words I barely understand in verse. Perfect." He brushed his thumb over the poet's now-erect nipple.

A lovely, low moan erupted from deep in her chest. "Shut up and kiss me, Seeley. We're only half done with our journey."

"Wha—oh, yeah, my half. But you're wrong." He _so_ loved telling her she was wrong.

Her eyebrow arched and her smile turned a touch condescending. "Am I? How is that."

"About the journey being half over. I'm never getting off this train."

Turns out, that was fine with her.


End file.
